LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



Shelf 



TT 



- 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 






B 







Reminiscences and Letters 

MARY PARKER 



EDITED BY 



SILAS H. DURAND 



BESSIE DURAND 




PHILADELPHIA 

George H Buchanan and Company 

420 Library Street 

189I 






Copyright, 1891 
By Silas H. Durand 



PREFACE 



The afflicted sister, whose writings occupy the pages of this 
book, is well known by name to many of those who will read it. 
I will here tell them how we came to publish it. In a letter to 
Sister Bessie, written about a year ago, she asked her to take 
charge of her letters and other writings, and publish them after her 
departure, which she then felt would be soon. In a subsequent 
letter she said : " Dear Bessie — Since I opened my mind to you 
about my letters I feel so relieved. I do not want you to grant my 
request against your own wishes ; but I do hope you will consider 
it, and that the dear Lord may direct you, and control your 
decision. I feel as though it is according to His will that I have 
been directed to you." 

In reply, Sister Bessie told her that if we published the book at 
all we desired to do so while she is yet here, so that whatever 
might be received for it above the cost of publication could be 
applied for her comfort. We wished that the dear friends who 
desired to render her assistance, as many have already so lovingly 
done, might do so in the pleasant way of purchasing the book, 
which we knew would be heartily acknowledged as full "value 
received." In response to this our dear, self-depreciating sister 
wrote : " Sister Bessie, I feel to humbly beg your pardon for one 
thing I said about favorable letters I have received concerning my 
published letters. I only meant to explain why I thought they 
might pass through the press after I had gone. My dear sister, I 
could not consent for you to undertake the task you proposed for 
my sake. No ! no ! Besides, I feel it would be an imposition upon 
the dear household of faith, many of whom, out of charity, might 
feel called upon to purchase the book ; .and I feel that they have 
already favored me far, oh, very far, beyond what I deserve. If 



4 Preface 

you could not promise to look after my writings provided I should 
be taken away lirst, and a way should be opened for another 
publication, do, I implore you, try to forget that I ever made an 
allusion to the subject. One thing that makes me fear that some 
one might undertake another publication for his own benefit is 
this : several persons ordered several dozens of my book in order 
to reap the profit themselves." 

The first thought was to republish many of the letters con- 
tained in the " Collection of Gems " published by our kind sister, 
Alma F. McNaughten. But as we have enough other material to 
fill a volume, of the size we design to make, mostly written since the 
publication of that, we have taken but a few of those, selecting 
those we deem of most general interest, and which cover ground 
not otherwise covered. In reply to the question as to what letters 
she would suggest to be taken from that book, Sister Mary said : 
" I am powerless to answer, for I have no copy of the book, and, 
though it may seem incredible, I never read it. I merely glanced 
through it enough to see my defects in thought stamped upon all. 
Very many have expressed themselves comforted by the letter 
written from the words, ' But the sorrow of the world worketh 
death ; ' also, ' Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord 
pitieth them that fear Him.' I feel perfectly willing to trust your 
judgment, and that of Brother Durand and Sister Clarice." 

My visit to our dear sister in May, 1890, is mentioned else- 
where. As I meditated one day upon her condition, her bodily 
sufferings and her spiritual peace, the favor of the Lord to her in 
thus displaying the riches of His grace, and the peculiar power 
of her writings to comfort the afflicted and poor people of God, I 
wished she might write something now concerning her past life. 
It seemed to me almost impossible that she should be able to do 
so, when I remembered that she can neither stand nor lie down, 
can occupy but one position, and that not a restful one, and that 
often pain renders her unconscious, or partly so, for hours and 
even days together. I wrote her as follows, dated April 3, 1891 : 

" Dear Sister: 

"As I sit here thinking of you and of the book we con- 
template publishing, a thought occurs to me which I will suggest 



Preface 5 

to you. I wish you to write a little in the form of reminiscences. 
Begin some day when you are feeling well enough, and trace up 
your life, outwardly and inwardly, from your earliest remem- 
brance. Do not write long at a time. If any scripture is on your 
mind with power at any time as you write, mention it ; write your 
feelings about it, then go back again and bring up the story. Tell 
from your present remembrance the feelings when disease was 
binding you, and the way in which the Lord has at times brought 
into your soul, sweet and humble submission under His mighty 
hand, and tender resignation to His will. You can be engaged 
upon this as strength will permit for the next two months. Do 
not spend any time or anxiety in planning the article, or in think- 
ing what it will be. Just write a little every day, when able, if 
only ten lines. Do not pass over anything that comes back in 
your memory, because you may have spoken of it in some letter. 
Let your private correspondence be very much lessened, for you 
are not able for so much. Indeed, it is a great wonder that you 
have done what you have. When you have written a dozen pages 
or so, send it to me, and we will make what suggestions we can, 
and will do anything to lessen any other work or correspondence 
you may have. As you trace along the history of the past it is 
not necessary that all connecting circumstances should be given. 
When you remember any particularly dark period, place yourself 
there for a little while, and give expression to the sorrow and dark 
forebodings ; and the same when your heart was resting in sweet 
content, or filled with songs of praise and thanksgiving." 

I was truly gratified and not a little surprised at the result of 
this suggestion, as I am sure the dear friends who read it will be. 
Seldom have I ever read anything more deeply interesting and 
touching than these reminiscences. We offer this book with the 
assurance that it will be of abiding interest and value to the 
spiritual reader. 

Silas H. Durand. 
Southampton, Pa., 
June 30, 1891. 



CONTENTS 



PAGE 



Preface ... ....... 3 

Reminiscences 9 

Experience 75 

Letters 

To Silas H. Durand, 85, 89, 150, 170 

To Rosina B. Durand .'..,'.,, 92 

Extracts 

To Helen Corbin ..'......«, 95 

Mr. and Mrs. Cartwright 97 

Mattie S. Kaga 100 

Cornelius Myers 102 

Kate Swartout 103 

Neffie Biggs . 107 

Signs of the Times, 108, no 

Primitive Monitor 116 

Alma F. McNaughten 120 

Emma L. Smith 143 

Amanda L. Dulin 153 

Sarah Tooth 157 

Ruth Holcombe ' 158 

Vine Loofbourrow 172 

Sarah Boyd 175 

Mr. and Mrs. B. F. Coulter 177 

Margaret Craven 184 

E. B. Walton 185 

Amy R. Barnesley ..,.,.,.,,, 188, 192 



Contents 7 

PAGE 

Extracts — Continued 

Mr. and Mrs. E. B. Walton 190, 206 

Mr. and Mrs. John McConnell 196 

R. M. Benedict 200 

M. M. Hassell 209 

M. M. Rounsavell 212 

Diana Morris , , 230 

Elder Harvey Wright 233 

Elder Samuel Bradbeer 236 

James Trask 238 

Mr. and Mrs. S. H. Durand 245 

Edith Durand 264 

Bessie Durand ......* 265 

Conclusion 296 

Extracts Published in the Signs .'..-. 215 

Visit to Mary Parker 224 

Editorial Remarks, 85, 94, 120, 221 

Appendix — To the Holcombe Reunion 301 



REMINISCENCES 



In the year 1848, in the mild month of September, when 
the air is balmy, and the golden sunlight falls in soft mellow 
shadows over the great, wide earth, in a pleasant country 
home, amid the green picturesque hills of Southern Ohio, I 
was born. I am the youngest of nine children and almost like 
" one born out of due season," my eldest brother and sister 
having reached maturity before my birth. The marriage of 
my sister, who is now a widow, living in Iowa, is the very 
first of my childish recollections. I was then between three 
and four years old, and after the marriage rites had been said 
by the Presbyterian minister, who officiated, my sister took 
me on her lap and my father bade me sing the hymn begin- 
ning: "How firm a foundation, ye saints of the Lord." 
When I finished I was heartily applauded, especially by the 
minister, which was very pleasing to my childish vanity. My 
'father, Elder John Parker, was born in Loudoun County, Vir- 
ginia ; my mother in Lambertville, New Jersey. Both united 
with the Old School Baptist Church at the same time, and both 
were buried with the Saviour in the watery grave at the same 
time by Elder Thomas Harper. When my dear father was 
raised up out of the water, his soul was so filled with the same 
glory that I think " shone round about Paul," that he began 
at once to preach the unsearchable riches of Christ, and for 
some time he stood upon the banks of the flowing stream, 
uttering such ascriptions of praise, telling of the goodness and 



io Reminiscences and Letters 

love of God with such ability as to astonish all who listened 
to him, and Elder Harper very emphatically declared he 
knew he had baptized a preacher. That his prophecy came 
true, my father's whole after-life, which was spent in so ably 
defending the truth, certainly went to prove. He never at 
all craved or sought notoriety, therefore his rare gifts and 
abilities were little known outside his personal, special charges. 
He was strongly attached and devoted to the four churches of 
which he had charge, and these churches would, as Paul says, 
" almost have plucked out their very eyes " for him, so deeply 
did they love him. I am told that he would often hold a 
large congregation two hours as if spell-bound, when every 
eye would be wet with tears, and the tears would drop like 
rain down his own cheeks. Oh, what a noble calling, to be 
called of the Lord " to preach the unsearchable riches of 
Christ," to publish peace, to bring the gospel of good tidings 
to the poor, to say unto them that mourn in Zion, "Thy God 
reigneth ! " 

What a strange, a wonderful thing is this human life of 
ours ! The apostle says, " What is life ? It is even a vapor, 
that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away. ' ' 
But, as the sturdy oak, even though it casts its beautiful leaves, 
yet has its substance in it, and will again come forth in its 
beauty in spring-time, so the soul, if the divine substance be in 
it, will come forth in the spring-time of eternal life in never- 
fading beauty and fragrance, and shine in resplendent glory, 
when clothed in the likeness of its Redeemer, in the world of 
never-ending bliss. Sometimes my poor, maimed life looks so 
narrow, so purposeless, so useless in every way, that, like 
Job, I think, " better is the day of my death than the day of 
my birth." I wonder that I am left here a useless cumberer of 
the ground. Then I am carried back to my childhood, my 
infancy, when I was a sickly, delicate babe in my mother's 



Reminiscences 1 1 

arms, who thought each day the feeble spark of life would go 
out. All along my strangely afflicted life, the love, the power, 
the tender care of the dear covenant-keeping God has been 
round about me, sweetly, securely encircling me like a golden 
ring that has neither beginning nor ending, and even my poor 
life seems wonderful, oh, very wonderful ! and in it there 
seems to flow much beauty and sweetness from that boundless, 
inexhaustible river, the " streams whereof shall make glad the 
city of our God." 

A very dear brother in Christ knocks gently at my door 
and desires me to unlock the closed chambers of the buried 
past ; to lay open before the reader the shut book of the 
happy days of yore. But how greatly I hesitate at the thought 
of opening the cherished volume in whose sacred pages are so 
many turned-down leaves, so many pages marked by tears, 
and the wrung-out anguish of a sorely-tried heart. As I sit 
here alone in my sick room, amid the silence, the hush and 
quiet that pervades the house when the dear ones go to their 
place of worship, when there falls upon the ear the sound of 
no human voice, when no human foot-fall is heard and no 
sound save the moaning of the house dog, disturbs the silence, 
then do my thoughts go back to the past, when my tiny bark 
of life sailed on a smooth summer sea, with no ripple, or 
wave or bounding billow to mar or stir its sweet, calm 
beauty. Wholly buried in thoughts of the golden happy 
past there comes across memory's green fields the poem : 

" I am dreaming of the loved ones, 
Of the happy days of yore, 
Of the joys that I have tasted, 
Joys which I shall know no more. 

" I have seen the fairest flowers 
Blasted by the snows of fate, 
Brightest hopes all torn and scattered, 
Hearts once glad made desolate." 



1 2 Reminiscences and Letters 

Oh, the sweet memories that awaken within me, the 
touching, tender influences that cluster around me as I go 
back in memory to the old home and the old life ! Home ! 
What, sweet music is wafted back from the buried past, 
arousing all the most tender emotions of the soul at the men- 
tion of this one cherished word, " Home." It is like running 
the fingers gently and swiftly over the keys of some instrument 
of music whose chords send forth soft, delicious strains of 
melody, which permeate the whole being, touch each secret 
heart-spring, and vibrate through each hidden recess and 
chamber of the soul. How oft in memory we go back to our 
happy childhood, where no dark cloud hung over the smooth 
surface of our sea of life. But when we have reached matur- 
ity, oh, how dark are the clouds ! how tempestuous the bil- 
lows that come over our sunshiny sea ! Here we see tears, 
sorrows, bereavements; a time when footsteps fall softly and 
all around speak in low whispers, when there is the muffled 
sound of the closing of coffin-lids, the shutting out of sight 
of the dearest of all faces ; the folding away forever of tired, 
kind hands. Soon there follows the broken household, the 
going out from the dear home of our childhood, and all our 
early, youthful joys are numbered with the past. 

The dear home of my childhood was a home of quiet peace. 
The union of our parents was one of true affection, where 
heart is joined to heart. The blessed, sanctifying love of 
God shed the golden glory of its light upon the sacred 
shrine of their home, and prevented dissensions from coming 
within its quiet precincts. I think my mother was the 
most patient woman I ever knew. My father, when speaking 
of her, often said he was reminded of the words in 
Proverbs xxxi : n : "The heart of her husband doth safely 
trust in her, so that he shall have no need of spoil." 
Paul says of the women, "Let them be keepers at home." 



Reminiscences 1 3 

My father being almost all of the time absent preaching 
the blessed gospel, our dear mother was truly " a keeper at 
home," guiding her house, caring for her children and making 
home the dearest spot on earth for father when he came back 
weary with travel and hungry for the kindly ministrations and 
the soothing influences that the dear wife and mother shed 
about the sacred shrine of home. 

Home and mother ! What depth of meaning lies in just 
these two short words. What tender, soothing influences 
cluster around, and sweet memories and emotions arise at the 
mention of these words. Like twin sisters they are so closely 
allied, they so tenderly blend and run together, that we can 
scarce recall to mind the one without the memory of the other 
coming up. Certainly there can be no perfect or pleasant 
home without a mother's presence, our light and love. And 
I firmly believe that this is the place where the all -wise 
Creator meant woman to shine ; the one great purpose for 
which she was created. No woman can bring within the 
sacred walls of home too much good sense, learning or culture. 
Indeed more intellect and wisdom are needed in guiding a 
household, in training the children to put their shoulders 
properly to the great revolving wheel of life, than in any other 
sphere, for in this lies the real basis of the future welfare of 
our country. Think not, dear reader, if you are a wife and 
mother, intellectual, educated, cultured, that you have buried 
your brilliant talents, but bring them to bear in making your 
home one that reaches to the highest standard of excellence 
in training the minds left to your keeping ; and not only will 
your children arise and call you blessed, but the world at 
large will be the richer because of your having lived. Oh ! I 
know, my dear sisters, that you, upon whose shoulders fall 
the care, the burdens of home, the grave and sacred respon- 
sibilities of wife and mother, often have great struggles and 



14 Reminiscences and Letters 

sorrows. Your footsteps often become weary, your hearts 
heavy, and you almost lose sight of the fact that yours is a 
most exalted position, and that a halo of beauty rests upon 
the life of her who is the centre of home — the wife and mother. 
In all the trials of life you who are a dear wife and mother 
should lift up your " eyes unto the hills from whence cometh 
your help. ' ' The pitying eye of your Heavenly Father is ever 
on you. He knows the mother hath sorrows, and He is a 
gracious burden bearer, who says " Come unto Me, all ye that 
labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest ;" "Like 
as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that 
fear Him ;" " Those who seek Him early shall find Him," 
and " None are sent empty away." No one more needs the 
strength of His dear everlasting arm, none need more to rest 
under His sheltering wing than the mother of children, the 
mistress of home. Oh ! the blessedness of His love as it 
sheds its softening, refining influences over godly homes, 
making them an earthly Eden, where the father and mother 
and their children sit down and quietly rest as under the 
shadow of the branches of a wide-spreading tree. 

As I pause here for a little time, I quite startle to see 
how far I have drifted from the pages of the past, which 
I promised to lay open before the reader. Pardon the digres- 
sion, and we will try to take up the broken thread where we 
left off. 

At the time when my life began to drift along with the 
current and events of this world, the older members of the 
family had gone out from the home-roof to take their places 
in the great battle of life, and to establish homes of their own. 
My two younger brothers and myself were left in the dear 
home, under its moral and religious influences. I loved my 
two brothers almost to idolatry, and they in turn petted and 
were exceedingly kind to me ; the older one especially looked 



Reminiscences 15 

after me through all my childhood and early girlhood with 
untiring zeal and affection. 

When I went skipping over the hills to the district school, 
this kind brother helped me over the foot-logs, up the steep 
hills, and was my protector and friend in all my childish 
troubles. Even at this early stage of my life the disease that 
now holds me so in thrall would at times shyly show itself, 
like some dangerous reptile lying in wait in the path of its 
helpless victim, awaiting a favorable time to seize upon and 
devour its prey. My flesh would at times bloat, and great sores 
would appear about my neck and on my person. ]f I ran rap- 
idly at play, or ascended any upward incline, my heart would 
beat so wildly respiration would for a time almost cease, and 
my very tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth. My teach- 
ers would often remark that I was so very pale during the after- 
noon, and the woman who did my mother's washing and heavy 
work often said she believed I was dropsical. Oh ! if I only 
could have gone to my parents then and impressed them with 
the seriousness of my condition, how much suffering I might 
have escaped ; but, alas ! I was too young to myself compre- 
hend my condition, and when I thought of it at all, in my 
childish ignorance, I really supposed all the human family 
had such symptoms. A few years after this time one of my 
married brothers had a little girl three years old to take 
general dropsy, and, after lying one whole year in her cradle, 
helpless as a great heavy log, suffering untold agony, she 
quietly passed away during the hot month of August. My 
father's youngest sister was delicate in health all her life, and 
soon after she had blossomed into a beautiful woman, married, 
and in one year died of dropsy. After I became twelve or 
thirteen years of age the symptoms of disease for a time dis- 
appeared, and my future lay before me full of beauty, and 
glowing with youthful hopes and dreams. Our parents were 
very hospitable, my father widely and favorably known, and 



1 6 Reminiscences and Letters 

the dear old home was much of the time filled with dear 
pleasant friends from a distance, or young people from 
Logan, the nearest town, a thriving county-seat situated on 
the Hocking River, in the centre of the Hocking Valley, and 
girt about on either side by beautiful, picturesque hills. My 
older brother was a lover of, and a favorite in society, and it 
was his social influence that drew the young people to 
our pleasant country home. I did not so much enjoy 
the society of the young and gay as I did that of the 
sober, middle-aged Christians who came to see my parents 
and to talk of the goodness of God, and tell of the 
wonderful Nazarene. Oh ! how I did love even then to hear 
about Jesus, the Jesus that in future years was to become my 
life, my strength, my hope, my all. I think I always believed 
in the existence of God, and knew that he had all power ; but 
oh ! not then, not at that early day, had the hidden spring of 
the soul been touched, the flood-gates opened and the King 
in his beauty and glory and holiness come in. I can scarce 
remember when, in my childish way, I did not try to pray, but 
if it was prayer, it was usually that the Lord might spare my 
father and mother to me, and that I might be an obedient, 
loving child, not to my Heavenly Parent, but to my natural 
parents. But, as I in memory go back to those happy days 
in early youth, I think I can plainly trace the working of the 
Father's dear hand, can see that there was a drawing of his 
love, the. encircling of his almighty care, and oh ! how my 
heart swells within me with gratitude and love when I see 
how, as I trust, he snatched me as a brand from the burning. 
To whom do I owe to-day the deep, great thankfulness that, 
as I open the pages of my past, none of midnight darkness 
are there, no pages all blotted and marred by the blackness 
of crime? Surely myself, "prone to sin as the sparks are to 
fly upward," cannot claim any credit; and to none is the 
praise due save to Him who never slumbers nor sleeps, and 



Reminiscences 1 7 

whose all-seeing "eye is ever over the righteous, and His ear 
is open unto their cry." 

True, in looking over the past, I see where often and 
often my wayward feet have gone far astray. There are many 
things that fill me with self-loathing, great remorse and deep 
regret ; but oh ! I am so glad, so thankful to the Lord that 
the darkness of out-broken sin, the blackness of actual crime, 
does not appear on the pages of my past. 

But if it had followed that crime had been stamped upon 
my life-pages, and I wore about with me the mark of Cain ; if, 
like King David, I would confess and be sorry for the sin, 
would not I find an advocate with the Father through the 
love and intercession of His dear Son ? David, the "sweet 
singer in Israel," fervently prayed not only to be cleansed 
from the sin of having been a vile seducer, but also humbly 
begged to be cleansed from murder ; for he well knew that 
the innocent blood of poor Uriah lay upon his soul. Oh ! 
the depth of the love that will reach down to the very deepest 
depths of crime and sin, and rescue its victim, removing the 
filthy garments, clothing them in " linen clean and white," 
whose spotless purity has been bought at so precious a price 
as the shedding of the innocent blood of God's only Son ; for 
without the shedding of blood there could be no remission of 
sin. 

The churches for which my father labored were all, save 
the one near our home, situated in different counties, and 
could not at that time be reached by rail. When not in school 
I was sometimes allowed to accompany father to an appoint- 
ment. Sometimes he would relate some interesting adven- 
ture or scene through which he had passed ; again we would 
both be silent, enjoying the lovely scenes of nature as we 
drove over hills, across streams and passed through towns, 
and saw pretty farm-houses. On these occasions I formed 



1 8 Reminiscences and Letters 

some pleasant, lasting friendships and acquaintances, and 
visited in some lovely, delightful homes. 

At one of father's charges we were always invited to 
the home of a wealthy sister, who was a widow. She was 
exceedingly eccentric, and so irritable and cross in her man- 
ner that she could neither keep a servant nor a companion 
with her any length of time, and being childless she was nearly 
always living alone in her large, beautiful home. She wore a 
wig, and was always richly attired, but she neither evinced 
any taste or an eye to the harmony of colors in her personal 
appearance, nor in her rich and elegant household furnish- 
ings. Though my father was decidedly her favorite preacher, 
she would scold him terribly ; all the while, however, giving 
him the easiest chair, the choicest fruit and wine, and her 
most delicate, delicious viands, of which she seemed to have 
an abundant store. She took quite a fancy to me from our 
first meeting, and really begged my parents to allow her to 
adopt me. She gave me some costly presents, but they, like 
all her actions and belongings, were marked with her 
eccentricity. In her final will she made me one of her 
heirs, but I was so unfortunate as never to receive the portion 
left for me. That I am not among the number of the fortu- 
nates in temporal things the many dark waves of adversity 
that have swept their bitter surges over me, has certainly 
proven. But, thanks be unto the Giver of all good, no bitter 
wave that has swept across the surface of my stormy sea has 
been so dark, no storm-cloud has brought such blackness 
over the clearness of my sky, but that through it the rays of 
the sun could break, and that underneath it might be seen 
the bright gleams of the " silver lining." Oh ! the love of 
God, that has interlined and encircled my entire life like a 
" silver" or a "gold lining" indeed. How wonderful it 
all seems, and how strange that our blessed Lord, like we 
read of the love of Boaz for Ruth, should have loved and 



Reminiscences 19 

cared for us, and shielded our tender footsteps, even when 
we thought we were strangers to him. Are we not filled with 
wonder, as was Ruth, why we should find such favor from 
our dear Lord when we believed we were afar off from Him, 
strangers in a strange land ? Oh ! at the thought of such 
sweet, soul-saving, soul-cheering love, does not the heart 
swell with emotion, and does not the soul " mount up with 
wings as eagles?" " We are made to run and not be weary, 
to walk and not faint." And do we not feel to exclaim with 
the Psalmist: "Bless the Lord, Oh, my soul ; and all that 
is within me bless His holy name. ' ' 

About the time of the transition of my happy childhood 
into my early girlhood the late terrible war broke out. Who can 
lookback to that time, when the very foundation of this happy, 
prosperous nation shook as with the thundering of a mighty 
volcano, when the "Goddess of Liberty" drew her mantle 
of midnight darkness about her, her eyes a fountain of tears, 
and when she, " like Rachel, was made to weep for her chil- 
dren, and would not be comforted," without having all the 
heart stirred to its very depths ? Truly that was a time of 
our dear nation's darkest hour in history, when it seemed that 
father was against son, brother against brother ; or when the 
union of our nation, like the relationship between twin sisters 
or brothers, was broken in twain, and the golden bowl 
containing love, crushed to atoms. Out from the mansions 
and the homes of culture and wealth, as well as from the rude 
log cabins, went the dear, noble men of our nation to lay 
their lives a willing sacrifice upon the altar of what each soul 
believed to be the right of liberty. In those terrible days, 
North or South, East or West, scarce one home could be 
found whose hearth-stone was not saddened, or threshold 
darkened by the shadow of death, or out from under whose 
roof some loved one had not gone, never more to return. As 



20 Reminiscences and Letters 

one brings up the memory of those awful times, how we 
ought to thank the blessed Lord that He has, through His 
infinite mercy, goodness and love, once more given our nation 
peace. 

From among our family group, two brothers joined a 
company being formed at Mt. Sterling, Ohio. One was 
young and afflicted with heart disease, and before he was in 
the army one year he was discharged. The other one, who 
left a young, beautiful wife and sweet little boy, was out five 
years. He was a Lieutenant, and lost his dear, precious, 
noble life at the terrible battle of Mission Ridge. His hand- 
some young wife and the dear little boy became very dear to 
us all, and although she made her father's house her home, she 
and the child spent all or a part of each summer with us in 
our dear home amid the beautiful green hills. The years 1865 
and 1866 were eventful ones in my journey of life, for it was 
on one calm summer evening of the first year, after a season 
of great mental darkness, struggle and doubt, that I trust the 
" mists were all rolled away " from my soul, the barriers of 
sin were removed and the pardoning mercy and love of Jesus 
flowed like a peaceful river into my soul. Father and mother 
and the younger brother, with the little errand boy, had 
retired. My older brother and my sister-in-law were sitting 
on the long veranda playing on the concertina and clarionet, 
and accompanying the instruments with their voices. I sat 
apart, feeling that the burden of my soul was too heavy 
to bear. The moon had risen in great beauty, and its 
calm rays flooded the place where I sat. Hastily aris- 
ing I went to the orchard and knelt down under the 
shadow of a dark, spreading tree to try to pour out 
the burden of my soul to God, when a peace and calmness 
filled my whole being, a flood of golden glory seemed to 
envelope me that no words of mine can describe. The joy 
was unspeakable and full of glory, and only those can know 



Reminiscences 2 1 

of its sweetness who have felt its power, for the Apostle says 
it is " unspeakable." Soon after this another lady, one who 
was spiritually minded, the daughter of the late Dr. Taylor, 

of S , came to visit us, and with her I had much pleasant 

spiritual intercourse. Our home was filled with company nearly 
all that summer, a number of both gentlemen and ladies came 
from a distance, and a great many young people came out 
from Logan from time to time. This made our household 
duties quite heavy, and, with no efficient help to be found, 
my mother and I were often overworked. During the latter 
part of the summer the disease to which I am now a helpless 
prey, again showed itself. One morning, one of my limbs 
pained me as I went about my duties, and the trouble 
increased as the morning advanced. I drew off my shoe and 
hose, and just above the ankle found a bright red spot which 
seemed like burning fire. By nightfall these bright spots were 
to the knee, and I soon had a hard chill with high temperature 
and difficult respiration. Next day father took me to our 
family physician. He at once seemed puzzled, said he was not 
prepared to treat the case, and advised my father to have me 
examined by the doctors in Logan. But they seemed as much 
lost as the country physician, and said it was a very interest- 
ing as well as a peculiar case. Oh ! if they only had known 
and could have then given me a remedy to eradicate rather 
than just cover up the disease, so that like fire it should again 
break forthwith renewed fury, undermining the most precious 
boon allotted to mortals, that of health, what a blessing it 
would have been. But just here comes the thought that had 
it been the will of my dear Heavenly Father to give me this 
boon, He was able to have given it. Was it to bring me to 
know the dear Saviour better — to bring me into this close, 
precious fellowship with Him, through the fellowship of suf- 
fering, that He withheld the healing remedy from me ? So 
often during that time and all along my pathway, did I most 



22 Reminiscences and Letters 

fervently pray to be brought nearer and nearer to Him, 
" even though it be a cross that raiseth me." Most truly did 
I feel to say, 

' « Still all my song shall be, 
Nearer, my God, to Thee.'' 

Also, so often was the breathing of my very soul expressed 
in lines like this : 

" Oh ! for a closer walk with God, 
A calm and heavenly frame, 
A light to shine upon the road 
That leads me to the Lamb." 

We have all heard the story of the man who was going 
backward on the brink of a mighty, yawning abyss, and who, 
all unknown to himself, would have soon gone reeling into its 
awful depths, down the dizzy height, had not a friend, who 
beheld him from the other side, struck him a blow which 
threw his body reeling the other way. So I believe the kind 
hand of Providence sometimes, all unknown and unseen by 
us, strikes us a blow which, though it wounds and hurts, yet 
is given through infinite love, to save us and sanctify us unto 
Himself. Better by far is it to have one hour of sweet com- 
munion with the Father, through the intercession of Jesus, His 
dear Son, than a whole life-time of earthly pleasure, if it be to 
the exclusion of heavenly joys. Richer by far do I deem 
myself, and infinitely more favored, to have dear Jesus for my 
friend, to be allowed to seek Him in prayer, to believe on Him 
and to come so near that we can almost touch the hem of His 
garment, with His dear presence sanctifying every pain, every 
loss, every heartache, and the fleeing away of each darling 
earthly hope ; better by far to me is all this than would be 
health, wealth, the most ecstatic earthly bliss, which must 
vanish away as the dew of the morning, without the felt 
presence and love of my ever-blessed Saviour and Redeemer, 
who is the everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace. 



Reminiscences 23 

At the time when my terrible disease manifested itself in 
the inflammation and swelling of my limbs, I was confined to 
my room five weeks. Those weeks were filled with great unrest 
and disquiet, and I imagined myself quite a martyr for having 
been shut in so long. I was never quite my healthy, buoyant 
self again. Some months after this my mother had unexpected 
company and dispatched me to the barn in great haste to get 
fresh eggs. Over one of the stables was a hay-mow, filled to 
the joists with sweet-scented hay. Into this I climbed, filled 
my apron with the freshly-laid eggs and started to descend to 
the barn-floor, when my feet slipped and I went reeling down 
into an ante-room of the stable, whose stalls were occupied 
with saddle and farm horses. I thought I had broken my back, 
and lay helpless quite a while, but finally went to the house 
and, strange to say, said nothing about the severity of my fall, 
nor told them of the pain I was enduring. That night, how- 
ever, I suffered so that I could not remain in my room, and 
went down to the sitting-room, where I spent the night in great 
pain. From that time until this, I have not known what it is 
to exist without bodily pain. I went from home to school soon 
after this and suffered greatly, had no appetite, and when I did 
take food or drink would almost instantly have to throw it up. 
Most physicians think the sore or growth began in the stomach 
at this time and was the result of my fall. In the year 1866, 
on the fifth day of December, I was led into the watery grave 
by a visiting minister, and buried with my dear Saviour in 
baptism, and taken into the fellowship of Scott's Creek Church. 
It was a most beautiful day. The night before we had a heavy 
rain-fall with vivid thunderings and lightning, but on this 
late December morning the sun rose clear against the azure 
sky. As we drove to the baptismal waters I thought, as I 
gazed upon the great vault of heaven, it reminded me of a 
vast deep blue sea, with here and there a white, fleecy cloud 
looking so like a white sail upon the smooth surface of the 



24 Reminiscences and Letters 

ocean. Oh ! the sweet memory of that peaceful Sabbath day 
of the soul when I was baptized, and the sweet fragrance of 
the spices and frankincense and myrrh flowed like holy 
incense into the peaceful chambers of my soul, and I was car- 
ried on the wings of His love, above all temptation, sorrow 
and pain. 

" And I could not believe 

That I ever should grieve, 

That I ever should suffer again." 

But, alas ! how little we understand ourselves ; how vain 
to think we can take one step without the help of Him who so 
truly says, "without Me ye can do nothing." How soon I 
found my frail bark moving on the Sea of Galilee amid a fierce 
black storm, whose raging waves and billows seemed to engulf 
me until, like Peter, I cried, "Lord save," and the dear 
beloved voice again came floating over the stormy sea: " It 
is I ; be not afraid." Oh, the strength that comes to us when 
Jesus speaks ! the rest, the calmness we feel when we know 
that " He walketh upon the sea," and that with His own dear 
hand He will stay the mad waves. O blessed, blessed Jesus, 
dear Saviour of my soul, "let me hide myself in Thee! " 
" Lead me to the Rock that is higher than I," there to abide 
and bathe forever in the eternal love of God. 

O, Time ! how great are thy ravages, how strong is 
thine arm, how sure and unceasing are the strokes of thy 
sickle as it is thrust into the rich harvests of home, and every 
individual life ! If only thy destroying hand could have been 
staid, if thy foot-prints had never entered the sacred precincts 
of my dear happy home, then would all its joys, its tender 
pleasant associations have clustered about me still. But no 
hearts are so loving and true, no lives so noble and useful, 
no home so sacred and dear but that thou wilt thrust into 
them all the keen blade of thy destroying hand and bring the 



Reminiscences 25 

glory of all transitory things down to dust and ashes. "Ashes 
to ashes, dust to dust," should be graven upon thy breast, 
should be the motto of thy destructive mission. 

In a very short time after I confessed my Saviour before 
the world, in our dear old home changes began to come thick 
and fast. . My youngest brother was absent at school, and my 
older brother, who had so long carried on the farm, and who 
was the life of our home, became restless and dissatisfied, and 
purchased a dry goods store in Ewing, a small village not far 
from our country home, and went out from us, leaving a great 
vacancy, casting a dark shadow over my life. He did not 
marry until the following spring, and on coming home every 
Saturday night many were the expressions of unchanged 
affection for his sister, and fervently did he assure me that his 
wife's love would make no change in his affections for the 
dear ones in the old home ; but that it did, and that the cares 
of his own family, and the steps of time together have almost 
obliterated his affection, the fact that only once since I have 
been shut within the confines of four walls have I seen his 
face, certainly shows. But such are the heart-rend ings, the 
sad scenes, the vicissitudes of this transitory life. How good 
to have a "good hope through grace," a hope whose bright 
beacon-light points away beyond the fleeting things of this 
world to an eternal home where love never dies or grows cold, 
where we will listen no more for the coming of dear feet, look 
no more for the missing face, listen not again for the familiar 
voice, but where, in the full, sweet enjoyment of that infinite 
love "whose fullness filleth all in all," we shall bask forever in 
the smiles of him in "whose presence there is fullness of joy ; 
at whose right hand there are pleasures forever more. ' ' 

How often, while writing this brief glimpse out of the 
pages of the past, as memory brings up one beloved scene, 
event, or face after another, do I pause, and wonder and weep. 



26 Reminiscences and Letters 

And again I am made to exclaim, what a strange, what a won- 
drous thing is human life ! How changeful its scenes, how 
fitful and varied are its vicissitudes ; what an intermingling 
and blending it is of clouds and sunlight, of joy and sorrow, 
of unrest and of quiet. Now there comes a day full of sun- 
shine, of beautiful shadows, of bright dreams, of glad hopes, 
and we say life is so full of beauty, of love, of gladness. 
" Our lines are fallen in pleasant places." The sound of 
sweet music floats about as the perfume of fragrant flowers. 
There is the sound of familiar footsteps, the sight of beloved 
faces, the sound of voices most dear, the fervent clasp of 
loving hands, while over all is the soothing influence of peace. 
But rudely does the hand of circumstance let fall the 
dark curtain of adversity, of care and trouble, and the beau- 
tiful picture of quiet, peace and happiness gives place to one 
of darkness and sorrow, and the picture which a moment ago 
was so bright, so peaceful, so dear, lives only in the past, or is 
a bright vision over which we tenderly, lovingly linger only in 
our day and nightly dreams. Our dear Lord says in His holy 
word : "It is not in man that walketh to direct his steps." I 
often wonder if in every, or any individual life, this scriptural 
truth has been brought to bear as strikingly as it has been in 
mine. As powerless, as helpless have I been on the great 
ocean of life to row my bark in the one smooth, fair line pic- 
tured out by the vivid ambitious imaginations of my youth, 
as would be a ship in mid-ocean without helm or wind or 
wave. But the all-wise, omnipotent Father further says : "I 
will bring the blind by a way they know not ; I will lead them 
in paths they had not known." Surely by His dear, unseen 
hand has He led my blind feet in the paths that He, through 
infinite and divine wisdom, ordained was for my good and 
for the honor and glory of His dear name. And we are well 
assured that His way is right, and that " He is too wise to err, 
too good to be unkind." How well it is for us that the future 



Reminiscences 2 7 

is veiled in mystery, and that we know nothing of what it has 
in store for us. Just at the period in my life of which I now 
write, could I have looked away into the deep, dark labyrinth 
of the future, and have seen how much of pain and human 
suffering and woe lay in my pathway, I would have sunk down 
in despair, and my soul would have grown dizzy and faint 
with the sight. But as it is, " Sufficient unto the day has been 
the evil thereof;" and truly amid the most trying scenes have 
I been made to realize," as thy days, so shall thy strength be." 
In this do we not only see the mercy and goodness of God 
made manifest to poor finite creatures, but also see the great 
wisdom and power of Omnipotence in His foreknowledge of 
all things, and see how infinite and great it rises far above the 
most profound knowledge of finite man. The most brilliant 
scholar, the most learned men of science, must own that they 
do not know what an hour, or day, or a moment may bring 
forth. The wisest, most successful man of medicine, can 
neither stay the hand of death when it calls for its victim, nor 
breathe one spark of breath into the lifeless body. Neither 
can the strongest person, intellectually or physically, give life 
to the tiniest insect that inhabits the earth. Where, then, is 
the boasted wisdom and strength of the mightiest of finite 
creatures ? As the flower of the field it passeth away. If, 
then, they be powerless to save the body from death and 
decay, how much less can man do anything toward saving his 
soul, towards giving eternal life ? Ah ! we are poor creatures, 
and " man at his best estate is altogether vanity." 

From my window near where my sick couch stands, look- 
ing westward upon a green, sunny slope overlooking the village, 
and from whose tower, I am told, a vast stretch of undulating 
country may be seen, which carries the eye away to the distant 
blue hills in Southern Ohio, stands a beautiful mansion. It 
is the summer home of the Hon. M. Wilson, who was an 
American Minister to foreign countries a number of terms. 



28 Reminiscences and Letters 

He is now slowly, surely dying of cancer of the cheek and 
tongue. How I pity him, and how very, very poor I think 
he is amid the splendor of his home and all his wealth and 
title, and personal belongings. Poor indeed, "without hope 
and without God in the world." During his entire life 
haughty and lofty in bearing, ignoring all his early acquaint- 
ances and associations, professing no religion, attending no 
religious services, denying the existence of God. Now that 
he is brought as low as the lowest vassal, will he call upon 
God to have mercy upon his poor soul ? Not unless his heart 
first be touched by the finger of God's love, and the hard, 
stony heart become one of flesh. The Psalmist says, "the 
wicked are not troubled as other men, therefore they have no 
bands in death." With no love for, or belief in the blessed 
Saviour of sinners, the unregenerate go down to everlasting 
punishment with no fear or care of what the consequences 
may be. Truly is it said, they have no bands in their death ; 
and they are not troubled as those who feel their insufficiency 
and inability to save themselves. 

But I have been drifting again away beyond my subject. 
At the time of which I was about to write, when changes 
began to come within the hitherto happy circle of our home, 
it was my father's fervent desire to send me away to school 
so that the desire that I had for learning, and of which my 
father and brothers so heartily approved, might be gratified. 
But my dear mother, who depended so largely upon me for 
companionship during my father's almost entire absence from 
home, could not think of it. She would give way to an out- 
burst of weeping every time the subject was alluded to. So, 
deeply as I regretted giving up such a bright vision of future 
joy, I expressed my determination to remain at home. That 
this was the path marked out for me by Him who (i works in 
a mysterious way His wonders to perform," succeeding events 



Reminiscences 29 

soon proved. At this time a maiden lady, who wished to avail 
herself of the church privileges which being an inmate of our 
home would give her, asked leave of my parents to come and 
assist with the duties of the house and make our house her 
home. Soon after she came I was called to the sick bed 
of a sister-in-law, who was dying of consumption. Poor, dear 
woman, what a state of mind she was in, with four helpless 
little ones, one of them a babe only three months old, know- 
ing she must soon leave them motherless in a cold world, 
Oh, how deep was her grief! What was sadder still the dear 
woman had never felt the power and love and pardoning 
mercy of Jesus, yet I felt encouraged as she spoke of feeling 
herself to be such a sinner, for I told her it was to such the 
Saviour's promise was given, and I knew that never did 
He begin a work of grace in the heart but that He performed 
it to the day of Jesus Christ. Just before her last few days 
on earth were spent, she sent for father to come and pray with 
her, and during prayer she said she thought she felt the love 
of Jesus flow into her poor soul, and the peace of God, which 
passeth all understanding, removed the fear of death, and 
caused her to enter the dark valley and shadow of death com- 
forted by the rod and staff of the dear, tender Shepherd. 
While I was at this dear sister's bed-side trying to minister to 
her, and to the little ones, a message came that my mother 
was very ill, and that I was wanted at home at once. Oh, how 
sick grew my heart at the thought that dear mother was 
ill, maybe dying ! How I regretted having left her even 
for the duty that seemed to call me where I had been beside 
the sick sister. When I arrived home, I went at once to the 
room where mother lay, her patient face white as death, her 
voice too weak to speak any word of welcome. She had fallen the 
day before on the walk and had broken her thigh. What days 
and nights of suffering she endured, stretched upon a frame for 
ten weeks without being moved, no pen can tell, and how 



3° 



Reminiscences and Letters 



trying to me were the experiences of those dark days none can 
know save those who have been placed in like circumstances. 
Within three weeks after this time the poor sick sister-in-law 
passed to the eternal shore, and two of the little ones, bad 
with whooping cough, were placed under my care. During 
the whole of that year, from 4 o'clock in the morning until often 
11 and 12 at night did I have to labor to care for the sick, and 
perform the numerous duties that lay upon me. During the 
first year my suffering mother was as helpless as an infant, 
and from that time on, till, after four years of terrible suffer- 
ing, she was taken home, as we hope and trust, to be for ever 
with the Lord, she was an habitual invalid, and never able to 
walk. Just before these events occurred a heavy snow fell which 
lay on the earth, making the carriage roads as smooth as glass, 
and it being customary in country places for families to go in 
parties, spending the entire day, we had a continuous house- 
full of company, which was pleasant, yet made my duties 
very heavy. Unable to procure any help, as the farmers were 
well-to-do and did not wish their girls to hire out, all the 
labor and care fell upon my young, inexperienced shoulders, 
except the little aid rendered me by the little maiden lady 
who lived with us ; and if my suffering mother needed atten- 
tion, day or night, no one could minister to her needs but 
my own now experienced hands. The good-natured doctor, 
who for three months came every day from Logan, 
would often pityingly say : " Mary, this is too much 
for you, it is just killing you;" and sometimes his anger 
would show itself with great vehemence because he thought 
I had many unnecessary weights. I had ; but as I now 
look back to that time, how little judgment and really 
good sense did I exercise. If the roast was not prop- 
erly done, if the loaves of bread did not come forth from 
the great brick oven creamy of crust and white as snow- 
flakes, I was miserable. The tables and kitchen utensils, the 



Reminiscences 31 

muslin curtains, the rooms, all must be kept " just so," or I felt 
disgraced, all the while ignoring the low, warning voice that 
came to me in throbbing brow, in aching of arms, in the 
weary limbs, in the nervous, sleepless nights, telling me, if only 
I would have heeded, that I was trampling on and desecrating 
the most precious of all earthly gifts to mortal man — that of 
health. At this time I also had great inward struggles and men- 
tal trials. I had but recently, as I firmly hoped, started out on 
the wonderful spiritual journey which leads to the portals of 
eternal day. I was a mere infant ; and because I could not at 
once come into the full stature of a full-grown person in 
Christ, I thought I was running the race not at all. As our 
dear Master and Leader, after he was baptized of John in the 
river of Jordan, and had received such satisfying evidence 
of the Father's presence and approval, the Holy Spirit in the 
form of a dove descending upon His head, while " there 
came a voice from heaven saying, this is My well-beloved Son 
in whom I am well pleased," was taken to the wilderness 
where he was tempted of Satan forty days, I often wonder 
if all His followers do not have to be in a measure tempted 
and tried in the same manner. At any rate at this time 
I was taken into a wilderness through whose dense dark- 
ness it did not seem one ray from the Sun of Righteousness 
could ever penetrate, and look on this side or on that, hideous 
wild beasts were ready to devour me. It seemed to me that 
the dear Saviour was more severe in His denunciations of the 
hypocrite and the Pharisee than any other class of sinners, 
and oh ! how greatly did I fear that in having united with the 
church I had become, if not a Pharisee, a hypocrite ; and I 
firmly resolved for the time being that I would go to the 
church and frankly tell them I was no Christian, and unfit to 
be with them. But ere an opportunity was offered for my 
doing so, the heavy clouds were somewhat lifted, a ray of sun- 
shine penetrated and relieved the sombre gloom, and instead 



32 Remi7iisce?ices and Letters 

of begging of the dear ones to be removed from among their 
number, the language of my soul was truly, ' ' Entreat me not 
to leave thee, nor to return from following after thee, for 
where thou goest will I go, thy people shall be my people, 
thy God my God." How sweet, how blessed is the privilege 
to be admitted into the fellowship and the sweet enjoyments 
of the Church where there is " kept the unity of the Spirit 
in the bond of peace," to come unto Mount Zion the city of 
our King, which hath sure foundations, whose builder and 
maker is God. Oh, this is certainly the sweetest, dearest 
privilege given to the children of light as they sojourn here in 
this wilderness of sorrow and woe. If it be so sweet, so 
grand, so delightful to come within the lower courts, what 
then must it be to enter the Jerusalem above, where all is 
perfect purity, love, joy and peace, and where angels' voices 
unite in singing songs of never-ending praise, and where the 
one dear theme of all purified souls will be praise and honor 
and glory to God and the Lamb, world without end ? 

In the month of June, following the winter in which such 
marked changes took place in the dear old home, my brother, 
of whose coming marriage I have spoken, and who was now 
engaged in mercantile business, brought to our home to spend 
a week his city bride. She was an English lady, tall, and 
stately with a decidedly queenly bearing. I had been deter- 
mined not to trouble myself to even like her, for I felt so 
grieved because she had taken my brother from our home ; 
but she was so amiable and kind, and so patient with my 
resentment, that she threw coals of fire on my head. I 
despised myself much more than I had meant to dislike her, 
so without trying at all, which is the best way after all, I fell 
to liking her very much. 

Two miles from our home, down the lovely green valley 
of Honey Creek, lived my young cousin, Lou C . She was 



Reminiscences $$ 

an only daughter, beautiful, exceedingly intelligent, but much 
petted and indulged, and very proud. During this one event- 
ful year she had lost a devoted mother, become a happy bride, 
and, before the end of a twelve-month, was a mother — and a 
corpse. From early youth this sweet girl and I had been 
companions, but since my mother had become helpless I had 
not once made her a visit; and in her new-found happiness 
she sought gayer associations, more congenial associates than 
she could now find in her strangely altered cousin. One mid- 
summer day while preparing the noon-day meal for the hired 
men at work in the golden harvest, a neighbor called to me 
from the road and told me Cousin Lou was dangerously ill. 
As soon as the dinner work was finished, I donned my riding 
habit and hastily saddling my youngest brother's riding pony, 
galloped down to my cousin's home. When I entered her 
room she raised up and threw out her arms, saying: "Oh, 
Mary, for one week I have prayed that you might come!" 
Her innocent babe lay beside her, but not once during my 
stay did she mention or notice it, but began at once to tell 
me that she was going to die, and that she was without hope 
and without God. Never in my life did I witness such sorrow 
of soul, such self condemnation, such contrition for sin, such 
a hungering and thirsting after the living waters and living 
bread. Her young husband, who sat beside her, said " Oh, 
Lou, do quiet yourself, you are crazy." She then firmly told 
him and the nurse to leave the room as she wished to be alone 
with me. Just then a glimmer of sunlight cast a bright ray 
across the room, and she told the nurse to close it out, saying 
" it just seems to me it is the light of Christ trying to get to 
me, but my dreadful sins shut it out and the sunlight mocks 
me." Alone with her she begged me to pray for her and to 
talk to her about Jesus. " Oh," she cried, " my wasted, vain 
and useless life, if only I could live it over and use the many 
precious moments spent in folly in reading God's word and 



34 Reminiscences and Letters 

learning of Him; but it is too late, too late!" In vain I 
strove to sooth her, in vain did I tell her of the thief on the 
cross, of the maniac among the tombs, and that Jesus came 
not to call the righteous but sinners to repentance ; it seemed 
to do no good. How very true that none but " Jesus can do 
helpless sinners good." Much as she wanted me to remain, 
and difficult as it was to leave her in this state, my duty called 
me home. Oh ! the darkness that filled my soul as I rode 
homeward, a darkness that seemed to obscure the light of the 
natural sun and make the midsummer evening seem like one 
of wintry darkness. The next morning brought the news that 
the dear young life had ebbed away at 12 that night, and had 
I not learned before that she died happy, when I looked upon 
the still form as it lay in the coffin, clad in her silken bridal 
robe, her beautiful up-turned face so gloriously happy with the 
radiant smile that left its impress upon the marble features, I 
should certainly have felt that she had been with Jesus, and. 
sweetly learned the beautiful lesson of His mercy and love, 
and felt it applied to her stricken soul ere she passed beyond 
the mystic tide. Her nurse told me that about three hours 
before she died she broke forth into singing, and though in 
health she had no gift to sing, she sang one hymn after 
another; then began to praise her Saviour and continued 
blessing and praising Him until the mortal put on immortality, 
and she was clothed upon with her house which is from 
heaven. Oh, the wonders of such love ! the matchless beauty 
and power of such all-saving, sin-cleansing grace ! the 
glorious fountain here opened to the house of David for sin 
and uncleanness ! None who are sick, none who feel the need 
of this great Physician, this healing balm in Gilead, no matter 
how black their garments, how vile their sins, how sick their 
soul, need fear of being turned away, but to all such the dear 
voice of Jesus says : " Your sins are all forgiven, come unto 
Me and I will give you rest." Without money and without 



Reminiscences 35 

price we can at this great fountain source find the riches of 
eternal life, the blessed gift of God which comes to us through 
our Lord Jesus Christ. How sweet to feel the refining, heal- 
ing influence of this love flooding and encircling our entire 
life, infusing it with warmth and light, so like the glad, golden 
sunlight that fills the whole earth, and which broadens and 
stretches away, enveloping us in its glory even to the shore 
of eternity in the blessed home above. 
" My dear Heavenly Father, 

" I thank Thee for friends Thou did'st give me, 
Whose kindness oft softened my care ; 
I thought they never would leave me, 
All lonely and desolate here. 

" My frail gourds they quickly did wither, 
I was left to the chilling wind's blast, 
When Thy pitiful voice said ' come hither, 
' My wings over thee I will cast.' " 

The love of my parents and my affection for them was. to 
me as the comforting shadow of a beautiful vine under which 
I rested, but which was removed before I reached the noon- 
day of womanhood. I knew that in some future time they 
would be taken away, and that, if I survived them, I would 
be left alone in the cold world, but I would try to lay aside 
the thought, or when it would abide with me I would com- 
fort myself with the scriptural promise, " When my father and 
mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up." I had 
given up all youthful dreams, had willingly sacrificed upon the 
altar of duty towards my parents and home all other earthly 
reliances. My dear Heavenly Friend knew all that it had cost 
me, all I had suffered and lost, and He alone knew how very 
" like breaking one's teeth with gravel stones," it was to me 
at times. But His love and grace sustained and upheld me 
through it all, and I believed He would give me strength in 
every future trial. After three years of family afflic- 



36 Reminiscences and Letters 

tion in which was crowded much care and toil for me, one 
sunshiny day in March my dear father started to make a 
tour of his appointments, intending to visit the three charges 
and be absent over three Sundays. The roads were' very bad 
and he was forced to cross the country twenty-five miles on 
horseback before reaching a railroad. He was very corpu- 
lent, weighing at this time about three hundred pounds. He 
reached New Holland on Friday evening, intending to stay 
at my eldest brother's all night, then go to Waterloo next 
morning, where he was to preach at n A. M. Sometime 
during the night he woke my brother and wife and they found 
him delirious, and very ill. Medical men say he had a lesion 
of the brain which induced paralysis. A protracted illness 
followed, of typhoid-pneumonia, from which he arose a mere 
shadow of his former self, and he never again recovered his 
strength of body or vigor of mind. Since my mother became 
helpless, up to this time, I had not once left her a day or 
night, but now that she could be left in the care of my 
brother and little nephew and a hired woman, I felt it my 
duty to go to my father ; for who can nurse or care for one 
sick and in danger so well as one who is actuated by true 
affection ? The touch of no hand is so cooling, so soft, so 
gentle; the sound of no voice so quieting as that of one 
who we know really cares for us, and who is dear to us. I was 
told that he would not recognize me, but he did, and the 
physician said he seemed to grow quieter when he became 
aware of my presence. From this time, and until his death, 
eight years afterward, my strong, dear father, on whom we 
had all so often leaned, became as a child, and clung to me 
with all of a child's persistent affection. 

Another year full of care and perplexity with my now 
gradually failing health. Then in March of that year, one 
evening after a snow-storm, when great banks of white, fleecy, 
gold-tinged clouds lay in the West, beneath which the sun 



Reminiscences 37 

was sinking out of sight, Death, entered our home and 
took our dear mother. Oh, the sadness of that dark hour ! 
Did you ever think, dear reader, what a depth of sorrow and 
loss and suffering hovers around the one little word "gone " ? 
Yes, mother was gone ! Gone out from the dear threshold of 
the home of which she had always been the central figure ; 
from which she would always be missed ; gone, never to 
return ! Oh, the awful hush and solemnity that falls upon the 
home at such an hour ! 

How vividly the picture of that sorrowful time comes 
before me now, causing the heart to swell and tears to flow 
from my eyes. But these sad scenes are a part of this life. 
Sooner or later they come to all homes, and to every individ- 
ual. But who ever feels prepared to meet the sadness and the 
heart-ache of such a scene and hour? If the kind hand of 
Providence did not soothe, or if Time did not soften such 
keen grief, many of us would never be able to rise above its 
blighting influence. But it is said that " earth has no sorrows 
that Heaven cannot heal." The Christian at least can find a 
balm in Gilead, a dear physician in Christ Jesus, the strength 
of whose everlasting love and arm is able to uphold under 
every trial and to soothe every heart-ache. How great the 
favor to be allowed to lie down in green pastures, to be 
led beside still waters, to rest and hide under the shadow of 
the sheltering wing of the Almighty, when all earthly hopes 
and reliances are taken from us ! " Truly when my father 
and mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up. ' ' 

At the time of my mother's death, my father was very 
feeble in health, my little nephew also lay very sick with lung 
fever. The physician, said my pulse was exceedingly rapid, 
yet I kept about, waiting on the sick, and trying to look after 
the duties of the house. But the next morning after mother's 
death, when I attempted to rise, I took a hard chill, and for 
seven weeks I seemed to hover between life and death. Two 



38 Reminiscences and Letters 

physicians attended me, and one of them was with me most 
of the time. As I could not receive proper attention in our 
now lonely home, my dear aunt and uncle, who lived near 
Logan, kindly took me to their home, where I was near the 
doctor, and where I received every attention and kindness 
that loving hands could bestow. Although I was permitted 
to once more get about the house and to go back to my 
afflicted parent, who so needed my affectionate care, from that 
day until now I have been the victim of a most painful chronic 
malady. My home now no longer seemed the place of quiet 
happiness and peaceful content which it had once been. My 
youngest brother, who had charge of the farm, did not like 
farming, and poor father could not bear to go into the room 
where was mother's vacant chair, and the couch upon which 
her afflicted body had so long lain. Everything reminded 
him of her, yet she was gone : gone never to return. Never 
again could he see the dear face, he said, until the resurrec- 
tion morn, when, at the sounding of the last trumpet, the 
dead in Christ should arise in glory. Then he felt sweetly 
assured they would meet again to part no more. Does it not 
seem that our dearest Lord has left nothing undone that would 
tend to make us supremely happy, when we cross to the unseen 
shore to join the multitude who walk with Jesus in robes of 
spotless white, and who sing the song that none but the 
redeemed can ever learn or sing ? Oh, the joy, the unalloyed 
bliss that awaits the poor suffering, trembling child of God ! 
Why should not the hands that hang down be uplifted, the 
feeble knees be strengthened and the eyes be turned "unto the 
hills, whence cometh our help " ? 

In November, nine months after my mother was laid to 
rest, with the grass and flowers now green and blooming over 
her grave, the farm had been disposed of, and we were ready 
to move to this village, eighty miles northwest. If the reader 
has ever gone out from the home of his childhood where every 



Reminiscences 39 

nook and corner had become familiar, and endeared by some 
tender association, where every tree and shrub that grew upon 
the sacred spot seemed like some speaking, loving soul; if the 
dear home seemed a part of self, a part of your very life, and to 
leave it seemed like the severing of heart from heart, then you 
will know how I felt when I stood for the last time upon the 
threshold, and my eyes lingered lovingly, tenderly over the 
scenes so familiar, beautiful and dear. But just here is another 
turned-down leaf, one among the many I have had to pass 
over, leaving them to rest amid the ruins of the buried past. 
But the memory of this home, like the forms and faces of the 
departed, will often " visit us in dreams," 

"And glide across our memories 
Like shadows over streams." 

Soon after we became settled here the father of the two 
little nephews who had been four years under my care, mar- 
ried again, and took them away to his home in the extreme 
north-western part of Ohio. Another year passed, then my 
youngest brother went out from us. Although I did not allow 
myself to become so rebellious about the marriage of my last 
brother as I did when the brother now living in Logan mar- 
ried, yet it gave me a wonderful heartache ; and when, after I 
witnessed the marriage ceremony performed in the Presby- 
terian meeting-house in this village, and saw him with his 
bride take the train on their wedding tour, and then wended 
my way back to our home with none but father and myself 
left, I felt broken in spirit indeed, and many were the tears I 
shed, as I set about arranging and putting away his things. 

But time, though by one hand it cuts down our dear 
earthly hopes and reliances and takes away many an idol, with 
the other hand it softens every blow, and in a measure soothes 
and heals each aching wound. So as the days and years 
glided onward, I became accustomed to the sad changes in our 



4o Reminiscences and Letters 

household, as did also my dear father. We two were very 
happy. He wished to visit all the churches of his former 
charge, and on his tours I nearly always accompanied him. We 
also visited the far West, and at one time made a lengthy visit 
in Kentucky. Poor, dear father often remarked he would 
have no worldly trouble now if only I could get well. But 
though I had the benefit of travel, of change of scene and of 
all the various schools of medicine, yet disease, like the 
unseen worm at the roots of plants, still pressed on me 
with its blight and heart-sickening results. True I kept about, 
and when at home performed my household duties, which I 
greatly enjoyed, never at any time being so happy as when 
my rooms were in neatness and order and I was preparing 
delicate, tempting food to place upon a nicely arranged table 
for father and other dear ones to enjoy. But every few weeks I 
would have a severe hemorrhage of the stomach, always throw- 
ing up two or three pints of coagulated blood. These attacks 
were always preceded by bloating and swelling of the body, 
and sometimes of the face and lower limbs. I was under first 
one physician's care then another, and hundreds of dollars 
were expended, all to no purpose. 

Eight years of almost uninterupted sunshine and domes- 
tic happiness and peace, and then all the happiness of an 
earthly nature that I believe Providence ordained should be 
mine, went out of my sorely stricken life, like the going out 
of a lamp on a night of thick darkness, leaving nothing but 
midnight gloom. All that winter father had been unusually 
feeble, and neither of us had been outside the village. At night 
he would be very delirious, and I had to be near him, watching 
him as I would a little child, and all this but drew the cord 
which bound child to parent more closely about my heart. 
On Thursday before the last Saturday in April, 1877, he 
expressed a wish to attend a yearly meeting held by our people 
near Good Hope, twelve miles from here, and asked me to 



Remiiiiscences 41 

arrange to accompany him. On Saturday morning, we ran 
down to Washington Court House on the cars, then took a 
carriage and drove across the country to the place of meeting. 
It was a glorious spring day, the golden sunlight flooding the 
earth, the fields covered with delicate verdure, while the 
singing of birds and the sweet scent of blossoms filled the air. 
But gloom, like a funeral pall, lay upon my soul, and cast a 
shadow over the perfect picture of rural beauty that opened 
like a grand panorama on every side, and a voice as of one 
weeping seemed to fill the air. So heavily did this, which 
I now believe to have been a presentiment of coming afflic- 
tion, weigh upon me at times, that I would cover my eyes 
and ears and strive to rid myself of such awful gloom. I 
mentioned my mental condition to father, and he said he, 
too, felt a great depression of spirits. Yet he conversed 
near all of the way, relating many interesting incidents con- 
nected with his early ministry. When we arrived at the place 
of worship we were met by the smiling faces of cousin Robert 
Yeoman and wife, and as other dear ones gave us the hand of 
welcome I felt very happy, and felt that it was indeed 
pleasant for brethren "to dwell together in unity." The 
friends insisted on my father speaking awhile, and he did so, 
taking for his subject, " Blessed is the people who know the 
joyful sound," but had spoken but a few moments when there 
was a rush of blood to the head, and in broken sentences he 
asked to be excused, and immediately passed out of the house. 
Soon he motioned to me to follow him. Finding him very 
ill we hastily got him in a carriage and I drove rapidly to my 
cousin's beautiful home, where he received every kindness, and 
the best medical aid that could be found. Three physicians 
were brought, and consulted together, but all their efforts, 
and all my tender nursing availed nothing. His course here 
on earth was finished. He had fought the good fight, had 
kept the faith, and now the dear Master called him to inherit 



42 Reminiscences and Letters 

the kingdom prepared for him. Oh ! the sanctity that per- 
vaded his death-chamber. All lips seemed closed, everyone's 
breath hushed, as we stood about that dying couch, and 
watched the dear life go out so sweetly, so calmly, just like 
going to sleep on the dear Saviour's bosom. Just as the sun 
rose in radiant glory and beauty in the eastern horizon his 
spirit took its flight to that home above, which has no need of 
the light of the sun, " for the Lord God and the Lamb are 
the light thereof." 

Again in my soul arose the agonizing cry, "Ashes to 
ashes, dust to dust." What is there in this transitory life 
that we may safely love and trust, since Time will take it all 
from our grasp? "As the flower of the field it vanisheth 
away; " and, after all, everything in this life is but dust. 
Oh, the dumb agony that filled my soul in this sad hour ! 
Like one who had received a hard blow, I felt, though I 
made no outcry, uttered no word of complaint. When my 
mother was taken away, in my sorrow I could lean on my 
father ; I did not feel alone. But now, every earthly prop 
was gone, the last binding tie broken. I had no one to share 
my sorrow with, no one to condole with, no one to offer me 
the sympathy I craved. It seems the pen of the most gifted 
writer would fail in the attempt to describe the terrible agony 
that seemed to bruise and break every tendril of my heart, as 
I stood by that open grave and saw the dear form of my only 
earthly protector lowered into its dark, narrow resting-place, 
never again to look upon it, never more to hear the dear 
voice, listen for the beloved footstep or hear a tender, loving 
word; to turn away, realizing that I was alone. Oh, it was 
heart-rending indeed ! Looking about me, how wide, and 
broad and fair was this world, but it held no sunshine for 
me. Large as it was there seemed no vacancy, no longer any 
place for me ; no one needed me ; nobody wanted me. We 
have heard it said that we all have many fair weather friends, 



Reminiscences 43 

who, like the swallows and sparrows, only come to us when 
the soft south winds blow, and when the summer-time of 
prosperity is with us. But there are birds that come to us 
with their beautiful plumage and their glad songs in the winter 
time, and those we prize most and hold most dear. So it is 
in this life ; when we prosper, when we move in the higher 
walks of life, and we sail upon undisturbed seas, then it is 
that the world will flatter, will praise us and honor us ; but 
when enveloped in the dark clouds of adversity, then it is 
indeed that we find the friendship of the world but a poor 
thing; and then, too, do we learn to prize those who are 
willing in our adversity to lend us a helping hand, and to 
perform the part of a real Samaritan to us. Such a friend did 
I find in my dear youngest brother, who, with his dear young 
wife, opened their house to me. Such a friend, also, would 
my dear uncle, Albert Parker, have been, had he lived. But 
he was called away five months after father was taken. Next 
to my own dear father and mother did I love him and his 
amiable, affectionate wife ; and when we parted the day after 
father's burial, it was with the understanding that I was to 
come to them in their home, back among the loved and familiar 
scenes of my childhood, so soon as I could arrange my 
affairs. 

When, after the funeral, the friends had all returned to 
their homes, the painful task of going back to our dear home, 
which was home to me no longer, and opening its closed 
blinds and doors, awaited me. Alone I went back, opened 
the little gate and unlocked the door out of which, only a few 
weeks before, father and I together had gone, he smiling upon 
me, and complimenting me upon what he in his parental 
devotion deemed my good personal appearance. The familiar 
sitting-room looked tidy and as if it were ready for its usual 
occupants. Side by side were father's large easy chair and my 
own light rocker. But it was when I went to his sleeping 



44 Reminiscences and Letters 

apartment that the pent-up anguish in my heart burst all 
bounds and alone, in what had once been home, dear, dear 
home, I gave way to my uncontrollable grief. There stood his 
couch with the covering just as he had left it, the pillow still 
bearing the indentation made in its downy softness by the 
dear head, while scattered here and there were his discarded 
garments and his bathing things. No one can know the deep 
anguish of such moments, save those who have also drank 
from the same bitter cup of sorrow, draining its heart-piercing 
contents to the very dregs. But here again is one of the 
"turned-down leaves" upon which we may merely glance. 
But let us shut these pages ever so closely, in memory's 
book every tear dimmed sentence is written with indelible 
ink and cannot be blotted out. 

By September, everything I had to do here was settled 
and arranged. There was nothing to keep me here. Although 
the few really intimate friends I had were exceedingly affec- 
tionate and kind to me, yet I felt that no one needed, no one 
would specially miss me ; and, oh ! it made my heart sad. Dear 
as I had been to my father, tenderly as he had clung to me, 
carefully, affectionately and tenderly as I had been nurtured 
and loved from early youth, how void seemed my life, how 
sad was my aching, almost breaking heart. Oh ! when I now 
see sensitive, tender-hearted little children, cradled in the 
lap of tenderness and love, when no rude wind is allowed to 
blow upon them, when no words are spoken but those of 
kindness and approval, when their every wish is anticipated 
and cared for, and their very life is lined inside and out, as 
was the infant basket that held the child Moses, with the 
environments of pure affection, I almost shudder for the 
future of that child, lest the rude hand of sorrow overtake it, 
and all its bright hopes be destroyed and the tendrils of its 
heart be broken by the cold and pitiless winds of adversity 
and bereavement. 



Reminiscences 45 

Dear father's death occurred May 24, 1877 ; and one 
bright balmy morning in the beginning of the month of 
September, I was ready to take the train for Logan. I said 
that no one cared to have me go, but in my brother's home 
was a dear little three-year-old household pet, who was the one 
only bright' spot left amid the ruins of my youthful joys. She 
would throw her little arms about me when I was alone in my 
room shedding the tears I could not suppress, and say, " Evie 
loves you, Aunt Mollie, please do not cry," and her little 
arms lingered lovingly about me, as I was about to leave, and 
her sobs and tears made my sore heart feel that at least her 
dear little heart held a place for one even so deserted as I. 
" When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord 
will take me up." " I will not leave you comfortless," saith 
the Saviour. How very sure are all His blessed promises, 
how forcibly have they been brought to pass in the storms that 
have swept their huge avalanches over my poor soul. Under 
the darkest of midnight clouds has the sun of righteousnes 
ever shone, illuminating my pathway in the darkest hours 
and enabling me to lift up my voice out of the depths and cry 
unto the Saviour and to say, " Thou who hast shown me great 
and sore troubles, shalt quicken rne again, and shalt bring me 
up again from the depths of the earth." Yes, out of the 
deepest depths of human suffering and woe, whither we have 
followed the footsteps of our Divine Redeemer, His tender, 
loving hand leads us into the sunlight of His redeeming love, 
unto the portals of eternal Day ; into the happy land of 
peace. Peter says: "The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, 
after that ye have suffered awhile, strengthen, establish, settle 
you." Oh, it is a wonderful way, the journey on which the 
poor little child of God starts out, that leads through great 
tribulation up to the Mount Zion on high, the fair city of our 
King, where He sits in resplendent glory on the great white 
throne, while all about are the white-robed throng who have 



46 Reminiscences and Letters 

gone up through this same thorny way, this " way which they 
knew not, this path which they had not known," but who now 
stand before the throne, crying " Holy ! Holy is the Lamb !" 
As I now sit here, though helpless upon a bed of pain, but 
with the sunshine of His love all about me, the shadow of this 
wonderful trust in Him, casting its golden light around my 
life, I now can look back to the dark hour of which I 
speak and see that the hand of love, pitiful, and very tender, 
was then leading me, and "that after that I had suffered 
awhile, His grace would strengthen, stablish, settle me." Not 
in a moment "can patience have her perfect work," but 
"tribulation must work it." Hence " these light afflictions," 
saith the apostle, " work for us a far more exceeding and 
eternal weight of glory. " 

But to return to my subject ; I took the early east- 
bound train for Logan, travelling for the first time in 
my life any distance alone, and without my father. When 
I reached the depot in Logan I was met by my dear 
uncle and the cheery face of Dr. Little, our old family 
physician, both of whom greeted me with pleasant words 
of welcome. I was not long in being driven to my 
uncle's home, where I was kindly welcomed by my aunt 
and the dear little ones. My dear uncle treated me with 
much tenderness ; and once, as I stood apart from the family 
on the veranda, thinking of my dear father, he laid his hand 
gently on my head and said: "dear child, you look so 
lonely." Three weeks passed by, then we were all called 
around the bed of that dear uncle to find his spirit already 
flown. He had been ailing a few days, but kept about the 
house, and about an hour before he died said he was so much- 
better he thought if we would all retire to our rooms he could 
rest. A little while and auntie's voice called out in great 
alarm, and when the three children and his step-daughter and 
I reached his room he was lying on the bed still in the 



Reminiscences 47 

embrace of death. Thus in a few short months did I stand 
and see the coffin-lid close for ever upon the features of two 
earthly friends I held so dear. 

My dear aunt was completely broken down at the great 
shock, and I strove as much as possible to spare her all care 
and mental and physical effort. I therefore looked after all 
telegrams, many of the burial appointments, and, as there was 
quite a housefull of relatives and friends staying in the house, 
I took it upon myself to superintend the household affairs. 
This and my heavy sorrow proved too much for me, and the 
next day after the burial of my uncle I took one of my severe 
attacks. The family thought I was very near death, as did 
also the physician, as he afterwards told me. When I began 
to recover, my aunt told me the children were in constant 
terror lest another death take place in the family, and when 
I told her it was my intention to return to New Holland, I at 
once felt it accorded with her wishes. In a few days, though 
so weak I scarce could walk, I prepared for my journey, my 
physician all the while telling me it was a very dangerous 
undertaking, and assuring me if I did go his wife should 
accompany me to Lancaster, which she did, kindly assisting 
me in changing cars, and seeing me comfortably seated 
in the railway coach and under the kind conductor's charge 
ere she left me. Oh ! how sad and desolate was my heart as 
the train sped onward, bearing me back to the only place I 
could call home, yet to whose shelter I had no real claim. 
Surely if any class of persons need kind words, it is the home- 
less orphans. To one thus bereft how soothing would be a 
welcoming smile, a word of welcome, or the assurance that 
somewhere in this wide world there is a home w T hose door is 
open to you, and loving, generous hearts willing and anxious to 
share the sweet influences and comforts of home with you. But 
the prospect of taking a confirmed invalid into one's home 
is not very cheering ; and to perform such a self-sacrificing 



48 Reminiscences and Letters 

deed of charity and kindness willingly, one would have to 
be actuated by a strong sense of duty, strengthened and 
upheld by both human and divine love. 

When I came back to New Holland it was with the 
hope that I might engage in business of some kind ; 
not that I specially needed to labor, for my income 
was then sufficient to supply all needs ; but I knew I 
would be better content, and would not then feel burden- 
some to any one. A lady occupied rooms in a business 
building belonging to our estate and carried on millinery. 
I was deeply attached to her, and she offered me a 
partnership with her providing my health improved. But 
I grew worse, and by winter was so weak and emaci- 
ated I could scarcely walk about. The physicians here 
advised and urged me to go to a hospital. I wrote to our 
family physician at Logan, who procured admittance for me 
in St. Francis' Hospital at Columbus, Ohio. My brother who 
resides in Logan was here looking after the business of my 
father's estate, and he kindly accompanied me to Columbus, 
placing me in charge of Dr. Laving, President of Sterling 
Medical College, and the Sister Superior of St. Frances' 
Hospital. All the leading physicians belonging to the 
faculty examined me, and all agreed that the leading trouble 
was an ulcer in the stomach, and said it could be felt, by draw- 
ing the hand across the organ, very perceptibly. They gave 
me the same remedies the doctor at home had given me, with 
the same trying results. I think every dose of medicine I 
took, as well as food and drinks, were in a short time 
thrown up, and they finally said it was no use. It was 
a most interesting case they said, but it seemed evident to 
them I was better off without any treatment. Oh ! how 
greatly disappointed did I feel. During my brief stay 
there I felt that I had crowded into my strange and 
changeful life almost the experience of years. It was during 



Reminiscences 49 

the holidays, very cold, and the building was full of sick 
people to overflowing. It was impossible to secure a room 
to myself, so I was placed in a ward containing five cots, and 
in which were four sick ladies beside myself. In one cot lay 
a lady who seemed very ill, but whose pale face looked very 
interesting and intelligent. She held out her thin hand 
to me and smiling said, " I am so glad you are to occupy 
this ward." Near the door stood a cot, from which low, 
piteous moans were issuing, while every now and then in sad 
undertones, with a strong, foreign accent, came a cry, " Oh, 
Lord, let me die ! ' ' This patient I learned was a very young 
lady, whose husband had died while they were crossing the 
ocean. She reached New York homeless, friendless and 
penniless, soon fell ill and was taken to the "Home of the 
Friendless" in Cleveland. There she was found by one of 
the medical faculty here and brought to St. Francis'. She 
would eat nothing, talk to no one (though greatly petted by 
the doctors) and day and night, over and over, she would cry, 
" Lord, let me die." How we all pitied her, and we strove 
to soothe her, but our every word and act was repulsed. If 
one of us would attempt to smooth the raven hair or touch 
the soft cheek, she would turn away like a peevish child. 

If one would see suffering and distress in every form, until 
it would almost appear that the world was but a mass of suffer- 
ing humanity, one must go to a place like this. All night 
long and all through the day from the various wards would 
issue the moans and cries of the sick and suffering. The 
Sisters of Charity, notwithstanding the basis of their life-work 
is to enlarge the Catholic Church, are doing a grand work for 
suffering humanity. They pick up friendless children, 
clothe, feed and educate them. They will take men and 
women of the vilest habits out of the ditches, cleanse their 
vile bodies, clothe, feed and cure them. The most beautiful 
and fairest woman I ever saw was the sweet, noble, youthful 



50 Reminiscences and Letters 

soul who had charge of the ward I was in, assisted by an 
older lady called Sister Polly. I learned that she was a titled 
lady belonging to a noble, aristocratic Catholic family in the 
old country, who, until she " took the veil," had never made 
her toilet without the assistance of a maid. She said her 
father kept seventy-five servants, and all her vast income she 
now expends on the charitable institutions of the Catholic 
Church. The beautiful nun of whom I spoke, was called 
"Sister Hildegard." Of her former history I learned 
nothing, but the beauty and purity of her face, the sweetness 
oi her lovely life, which hung about her as the perfume of 
some rare flower, I can never forget. All day long and until 
nine o'clock at night these beautiful, refined ladies went up 
and down the long corridors, in and out of the wards, wait- 
ing on the sick, and with their own pretty hands mopping 
the floors and performing the most menial services for the 
sick. My heart went out to the beautiful Hildegard, whose 
angelic face seemed like sunshine in the wards ; and though 
she treated me with much tenderness, always calling me " dear 
Mary," yet if through my impulsive love I would throw my 
arms about her and try to caress her, she would gently shake 
her head, and say "I love you, dear Mary, but I dare not kiss 
you." We had three regular meals a day, with a delicate 
lunch at 10 A. M. and 3 P. M., thus taking nourishment five 
times each day. Before each meal and at lunch-time " Sister 
Hildegard ' ' would pray aloud in the corridor, repeating 
always what is called the Lord's prayer, in which all Catholic 
patients would join, rapidly counting their beads ; then they 
would address a fervent petition to the Holy Virgin, asking 
of her the pardon of their sins. 

One Sunday the Catholic patients said to me I ought to 
go to chapel that afternoon, as the infant Jesus would be seen 
in the manger for the last time. I asked Sister Polly if I 
might go, when she looked at me surprisedly and said, "Will 



Reminiscences 5 1 

you really go? " When I assured her it was my wish to do so, 
she told me she would come for me when the bell rang. 
When first I entered the hospital, I noticed the outer doors 
were all barred after us ; my trunk was taken from me and also 
my purse. The sisters wore the long black garments of cloth 
with a veil of the same, reaching to the waist and confined 
about the temples, under which was a band of snow-white 
linen. The patients all wore loose, ill-fitting garments with 
great loose slippers and coarse hose, while each one wore upon 
the head the inevitable little white cap. All my pride stood 
in arms against being rigged out myself in such horrid style, 
and strongly did I beg to be saved the horror at least of 
donning the funny-looking cap. Now I felt alternately 
amused and horrified at the thought of having my friends visit 
me here, if I must be dressed up in a style like that. When 
the chapel-bell rang I heard the patter of Sister Polly's tiny 
feet ; and when I asked her if I could not get my shawl and 
bonnet, she hastily threw a red-striped patient's shawl about 
me and bade me follow her. • Through the long corridor she 
led the way, then down a grand hall-way into the chapel. 
The altar was hung with rich tapestry, and a great many wax- 
tapers were burning, bringing into bold relief the highly 
wrought lace designs. At one end of the altar was a mock- 
manger, with a wreath of jets burning in a half-circle under 
which lay a large doll, which they called the child Jesus. My 
feelings cannot be told ! Soon the grand organ began to 
chant; when in came the priest dressed in a long, white, 
elaborately embroidered robe, while four prettily dressed little 
boys, followed closely, jingling tiny silver bells. I asked 
Sister Hildegard if she would not have my Bible brought to 
me from my trunk. She said she would speak to the Sister 
Superior. Days passed by and I did not see my beloved Bible; 
then I asked the Sister if I could not have my own Bible would 
she please loan me a Catholic Bible. She seemed embarrassed, 



52 Reminiscences and Letters 

and made some incoherent reply. No mirrors were allowed 
to come into the wards. For this I felt truly thankful; for if 
at any time the Sisters would command me to put on the 
funny, ridiculous gear worn by the established patients, I 
never would have had the courage to look at the reflection of 
the comic figure I was sure to cut. 

After the physicians had prescribed for me, and the 
Sisters told them I did not retain anything I swallowed, they 
left off prescribing altogether ; and when, after a time, 
I spoke to President Laving, he told me I was free to 
do as I liked, or return to my friends if I preferred, 
as I would do better without treatment. The Sisters, 
especially Sister Hildegard and the ladies in my ward, 
begged me to remain ; but I did not think the blessing of 
God would rest upon me where I could not read His word. 
About the middle of January I prepared to leave the prison- 
like walls of St. Francis. Sister Hildegard said she would 
order a cab for me, but I waited until the middle of the after- 
noon before the cab drew up to the gate. The patients 
all crowded around me, many of them shedding tears and 
pressing me with little tokens of remembrance. Sister Hilde- 
gard took my arm and hand in hand we went down the walk 
to the curb-stone where the cab stood waiting. Tears filled 
her clear, lovely eyes and she pressed me to her in a long 
embrace, though, as before, she refused to allow any further 
demonstrations. 

It was a long, cold drive to the depot; and when 
I found myself alone amid a vast, living throng of strangers, 
alone in that splendid capital city, the sun was fast sink- 
ing in the western horizon, and I knew not what to do or 
whither to turn. Learning that I could not reach New Hol- 
land before noon the next day, and finding a train would 
soon be due that would take me to Logan without change by 
eight that night, I resolved on the latter course. Not very 



Reminiscences 5 3 

many persons entered the coach I took, and nearly all of those 
left it when we reached the City of Lancaster. Drawing my 
wraps and thick veil about me I gave myself up to reflection. 
How strange seemed the scenes through which I had passed. 
I always felt that God had a purpose in all His dealings with 
His children ; was I indeed His child ? And since He says in 
His word, " It is not in man that walketh to direct his steps," 
why, and for what purpose had He led me to St. Francis, 
among a people of a different religion, and mostly of different 
nationality ? His blessing to heal my disease had not followed 
me, for I was coming away as ill as I went, and with a heart 
sick with disappointment. Just as I was leaving the hospital, 
a sweet-faced aged Catholic lady called to me, and as she 
came up gave me an affectionate farewell, and said : " You 
are so genteel, and we all love you and have been praying for 
your conversion ever since you came." Her words impressed 
me with a feeling that I had been surrounded with great 
danger, and that the gracious hand of my heavenly Father 
had delivered me through His dear infinite love, as He did 
Daniel when in the lion's den, or as He did the three Hebrew 
children. Those people were exceedingly kind to me; 
indeed more so than to the other patients ; and possessed as I 
am naturally with a very strong sense of gratitude, I almost 
shudder to think into what deep wrong I might unconsciously 
have been led, had not the unseen hand of my dear Saviour 
delivered and saved me. Surely can I say : 

" He near my soul has always stood, 
His loving kindness, oh ! how good." 

Oh, the matchless goodness of his wondrous, encircling 
love! "As the mountains are round about Jerusalem," so 
has His dear love and protecting care seemed to follow me 
whithersoever I have gone ; and though alone in the world, 
no father, no mother, the Lord has taken me up, and He is 



54 Reminiscences and Letters 

our God forever ; He will be our guide even unto death. Oh ! 
that I may praise him now and forever more ! 

It was long after night-fall when I left the railway coach 
at the depot in Logan, and among the jostling, hurrying 
crowd I saw no familiar face, heard no welcoming voice. 
Taking a cab I was not long in being driven through the 
lighted streets to my brother's residence. My brother was 
absent, but his wife and their three little children gave me a 
warm reception, which greatly soothed my aching heart. 
The next morning as I went to the window and looked out 
over the great snow-capped hills as they sloped back from the 
river banks, their towering heights glistening amid the golden 
glory of the rising sun, the dear familiar scenes brought up 
many memories of the past, awoke many tender emotions 
within me ; and over my tempest-tossed soul, I trust, there 
fell something of that restful peace, which we are told " passeth 
all understanding. ' ' The steady flow and the roar and music 
of the ceaseless river, as it wound its graceful curves in and 
out among the hills, reminded me of that " River, the streams 
whereof shall make glad the City of our God." And 
the thought came to me, that away across the ebb and 
flow of the tide of that wondrous river of Eternal life, is 
the sweet Home of the Soul; and upon that shining strand, 
clothed in white are, I believe and trust, the redeemed and 
glorified spirits of my dear parents with all the blood-washed 
throng walking forever with Jesus, the great Saviour and 
Redeemer of our souls. As I stood at the window looking 
out upon the familiar scenes, my thoughts went out across the 
bridge of this natural river, over the snow-covered hills, where 
only a little way was the dear home of my childhood. But 
homeless though I was, to its sheltering wing I could no 
longer turn ; for its dear hearth-stone was deserted and silent, 
its once happy household broken ; no dear father's arms were 
there, held out to receive me; no dear mother's welcoming 



Reminiscences 5 5 

smile aud voice to bid me come; no brother's hurrying feet 
to meet me; all those joys belong to the "long ago;" 
strangers now own the once sacred spot, strange faces, 
strange voices, strange footsteps alone resound within those 
walls. 

While making my toilet that morning, I looked in a 
mirror for the first time since I left New Holland for St. 
Francis' Hospital. I believe I had half expected to see 
perched upon my head the inevitable prim little invalid's cap, 
and I smiled as I beheld the same pale face with absolutely 
no traces of wrinkled age, for I felt as if years had elapsed 
since I entered those prison-like walls ; and I really felt a 
degree of satisfaction when I found the brown hair was still 
unmixed with grey. How dear, pious little Sister Polly would 
shake her head and stamp her pretty little feet were she to see 
me thus giving away to the weakness of such sinful vanity. 
But Sister Hildegard, dear beautiful maiden ; I guess she 
would forgive, for I doubt very much if she could resist the 
temptation of looking into a mirror herself, were it placed 
before her. 

I had been in Logan but a few days, when my brother, 
who had been absent some time, returned. He said he 
thought I would be better satisfied to remain in Logan, at 
least for some length of time, than to return to New Holland. 
A few days afterward he told me that Mr. Howson, Clerk of 
the Common Pleas Court, was in need of some one to copy 
manuscripts for him, and that he offered me the place did I 
choose to accept it. As he offered to send all the work to 
my room, thus saving me from the disagreeable publicity of 
going to an office, I gladly accepted. My brother and his 
wife offered me a pleasant room on r the second floor of their 
house, and I was to assist about the household duties between 
writing hours. I got along nicely with my work, but soon 
had a severe hemorrhage which prostrated me for two weeks ; 



56 Reminiscences and Letters 

but rallying from this I again resumed my duties, and before 
I was again and finally stricken down, the" snow had dis- 
appeared from off the hills, and from my window I could see 
their delicate green covering over which the sun cast its 
warmth and glow ; the spring birds were sweetly singing, and 
the dear little children coming in from their refreshing ram- 
bles, would bring me great, fragrant clusters of sweet early 
blossoms. The goodness and tender mercy of God, seemed 
to be wafted on the mild spring breezes, to show itself in each 
fragrant bloom and bursting bud, in the glad song of the birds, 
and all his beautiful handiwork seemed to show forth his 
praise ; and at times there would come over my bereaved, 
suffering soul a great wave of thankfulness and peace, and I 
would feel some respite from my great sorrow, on account of 
the loss of parents and home. Yet disease still gnawed away 
at my youthful vitality, and like some dangerous, venemous 
reptile, lay concealed in my pathway, only awaiting a favor- 
able time to wind its sickening coils about me, thus securing 
me as a constant victim. One morning, after a night of great 
suffering with only a few moments of troubled sleep, when I 
attempted to stand on my feet, I was seized with the most 
excruciating pain. Again and again, after lying awhile, I 
attempted to rise but could not, and before mid-day my bad 
vomiting came on, and I begged my sister-in-law to call our 
old family physician. I had had a number of such attacks 
before, but my dear father had until during the last three, 
always been with me, and stayed by me. Oh, how I now 
missed him ; how much I felt the need of his presence. For 
nearly four months during that exceedingly hot season was I 
confined to that room, and nearly all of the time to my couch. 
How often, when lying down in that pretty but very warm 
room, would I think for a time that I heard the familiar and 
beloved footstep of dear father on the walk below, and I would 
feel my being all aglow with gladness, ere would come to me 



Reminiscences 5 7 

the sad realization that he was gone and I would no more 
hear the sound of his coming feet, no more listen to his 
familiar voice. 

The wife of the Clerk of the Court became a devoted 
friend to me as I lay there, as did also Sister Martha Vanatta, 
who lived near, and a number of the ladies. I was fortunate 
to secure the services of a dear mother in Israel as nurse, and 
could I still have her motherly love and care, it would be the 
dearest earthly boon I could possess. A lovely lady of wealth 
and high social standing, who was an aunt to my brother's wife, 
was also exceedingly kind to me, and often would the soothing, 
cooling touch of her soft, white hand quiet me when all else 
would fail. As the pleasant faces of those dear friends are 
brought before me as I write, with what tender yearnings do 
my affections again go out to them, and to feel once more the 
the pressure of their hand, to hear the sound of their voices, 
would be an inexpressible joy to me. My people there are 
Presbyterians ; and their minister, whom they introduced as 
Mr. Hart, came frequently to see me, and his kind, fatherly 
manner, his conversation, his prayers, were really a comfort 
to me ; and never, while time and memory last, will I forget 
this kind gentleman's attentions to me. When at times I 
would murmur some word of thanks, he would say, " No, no, 
I loved your father; besides, I too am a father; and maybe 
my daughters will one day be sick and orphaned, then the 
Lord will raise some one up to comfort them." The Metho- 
dist minister at New Holland, who lived next door to my 
brother there, together with his wife, had also been very kind 
after my father's death ; and while I lay sick at Logan, the 
wife paid me a visit which was very cheering, and thus while 
I was pressed sorely with affliction and sorrow, yet did the 
blessed Lord, on the other hand, strew my pathway on every 
side with choice blessings, and underneath it all were his dear, 
everlasting arms, and over all was the shadow of his shelter- 



58 Reminiscences and Letters 

ing wing, and the beautiful sunshine of his undying, unchange- 
able love. Oh, that I may praise him now and forevormore, 
for his goodness and tender care. 

One bright morning toward the last of May, when the air 
was balmy and pure, when came into my sick room the frag- 
rance of sweet-scented honeysuckle and bright blooming roses, 
and there flitted past my window every now and then a tiny, 
gold-crested humming-bird, my brother came to the door and 
said that in the parlor below was an old friend who wished 
very much to see me. I did not recognize him as he entered 
my room, but my brother introduced him as Colonel O. L. 
Jackson, of New Castle, Pennsylvania. How very surprised 
and pleased I was. In early youth, in the golden days, at the 
dear old home, this young man had been a frequent and wel- 
come visitor. When the war broke out he got up a company 
in Logan, and as captain of the company entered the war. 
He was wounded in the head, and lay hovering between life 
and death for a long time, but finally rallying (though he will 
never cease to suffer from the wound), he resumed his station 
and office, which was then that of Colonel of his regiment. 
From the time he entered the army until this bright morning 
in May we had not met, as he had, at the close of the war, 
become a successful lawyer in his native town of New Castle, 
Pa. He was now on a short visit to Logan, amid the familiar 
scenes and places, to renew old acquaintances, and to recreate 
after long and steady application to his profession. Every 
day during his stay he came around from his hotel and spent 
a little while in my sick room, and very pleasant were the 
moments, and quickly did time pass as we talked over the old 
days and associations. Then the leave-taking came, and I 
watched this handsome, intellectual friend go out from my 
presence and my life, most probably forever. Thus do 
the paths of human friends in this social life, cross and 
recross each other. Sincere and pleasant friendships are 



Reminiscences 59 

formed to continue for awhile, then some day, somewhere, 
the golden chain is broken, and we see their faces no more. 
Yet to me there is something very enjoyable, beautiful and 
ennobling about true, unselfish friendship. When thinking 
of it, there is always brought to my mind the friendship that 
existed between David, the "sweet singer of Israel," and 
Jonathan, the son of David's bitter enemy, King Saul. How 
sincerely and deeply did David mourn the death of Jonathan ; 
and it was then that he declared the love of his brother 
Jonathan was "wonderful, passing the love of women." 

Five miles west of Logan is the plain Baptist meeting- 
house, near which flow the clear waters of the creek where 
the sacred ordinance of baptism is administered. In this 
plain structure, with its uncarpeted aisles and uncushioned 
seats, for thirty-seven years my dear departed father fear- 
lessly and boldly, "declared the whole counsel of God," 
and proclaimed the glorious news of the gospel, which is 
"good tidings of great joy," and, indeed, "good news to 
the poor." But here Time has also placed his destructive 
hand, as he has everywhere in the past, as he will in all future 
ages. The form that now fills that pulpit and stands as a 
watchman upon Zion's walls, is not that of my beloved father ; 
my mother's seat is filled by another; all, all is changed, 
save the blessed gospel. That, oh, thanks be unto our God ! 
cannot, will never change ; and we are sweetly assured that 
life, nor death, nor principalities, nor powers, nor any other 
creature shall separate us from the love of our living, glorious 
Redeemer; and that nothing, not even the powers of Satan, 
shall pluck one of the least of his little ones out of his hand. 
Oh ! the security, the restfulness to be found by those who, 
like the gentle, humble Moabitish maiden, Ruth, have come 
to trust, and to rest under the wings of the Almighty. 

During the month of July, when the scorching rays of 
the mid-summer sun beat pitilessly upon us, making my pretty 



60 Reminiscences and Letters 

little room, with its sides facing the east and west, seem almost 
like a heated furnace, my youngest brother and wife and little 
daughter, with whom I now find a permanent home, paid 
me an unexpected visit. How it cheered and gladdened me, 
and how fervently did my heart go out in love to them. They 
were only going to remain over one day and night, and I 
thought if I could only go back to New Holland with them 
I would get well. I urged them to carry me down stairs to see 
if I could not then feel able to undertake the journey. I was 
now so thin in flesh, that one person could carry me with- 
out fatigue. With an arm round each of my brothers, they 
attempted to carry me down stairs, but before we reached the 
stairway, I became so faint and ill that they were obliged to 
take me back to my tiresome couch. Sad indeed was my 
heart as I saw those loved ones from my window enter the 
coach to be driven to the depot. When the hot days 
began to give place to pleasanter weather, and there came at 
last the breezy days of September, I began to slowly improve, 
and as my strength came back my anxiety to return to New 
Holland increased. Slowly, day after day, I got my belong- 
ings together, little by little, and packed in my trunk. While 
I lay in bed the dropsical swelling all left my body, but now 
that I began to move about, it returned again. One gloomy 
looking morning, about the middle of September, I was ready 
for my contemplated journey. 

A few neighbors gathered in to say, "good-bye." My 
brother drove me to the depot in an easy carriage. My dear 
young niece, Cora, accompanied me, from whom I was very 
loath to part. How this dear, winsome child did twine 
herself about my heart, and she seemed to return my affection 
with all the warmth of her fresh young life. When we reached 
the depot we found it one living mass of moving humanity. 
So many persons entered the train for Columbus, where the 
state fair was being held, that it was with difficulty my brother 



Reminiscences 61 

found me a seat beside a lady of our acquaintance. My phy- 
sician was on the train going to Columbus, and when we 
reached Lancaster, he assisted me to the ladies' parlor, told 
the agent to see me on the Cincinnati train, and engaged for 
me a lunch before he again boarded his own train. I now 
found myself weak, ill and alone. But from the agent 
and the person who kept the refreshment stand, ] received 
every kind attention ; and when my train came up, they 
placed me under the conductor's care, who seated me and 
arranged my shawls and pillows. Very sad were my reflect- 
ions as the train sped onward, moving me away from my 
childhood friends and scenes, I felt assured, for ever, back to 
the only place I could call home, yet which alas ! was not 
home. Like poor Rosey, the feeble, friendless and forlorn 
creature whose plaintive cry so went to all hearts in St. 
Francis Hospital, I longed, I hoped, yes, and I tried to pray, 
too, that I might die ; and the most soothing hope and 
thought that came to me on that dreary, weary journey was 
that I might soon die and be laid to rest. But oh ! how 
mysterious and incomprehensible are the dealings of Divine 
Providence. Not yet was it His will to call me. Little by 
little in the furnace of affliction did He see fit to let the 
dross slowly burn off and to try me, as I trust, that I might 
come forth as gold, purified and fit for the Master's use. Oh ! 
if I could but think and believe that notwithstanding all my 
sinfulness, my utter insignificance before Him, He is pre- 
paring me for His glorious Kingdom above, and that in that 
great day when He comes to make up His jewels, I shall be 
found among them ; if I, like poor afflicted Job, could say at 
all times in the midst of my great trial, "When thou hast 
tried me I shall come forth as gold," and with assurance say 
and feel, "I know that my Redeemer liveth;" then could I 
indeed "be still, and know that He is God," and bowing 
submissively to His will in all things, say " Thy will, dearest 



62 Re?niniscences and Letters 

Lord, not mine, be done." What a victory I would then 
have, and how patiently could I "wait all the days of my 
appointed time, till my change came." 

I reached New Holland the same day on which I left 
Logan, weary and ill indeed, but glad to be back, and so glad 
to see the dear familiar faces of my youngest brother and wife, 
and my little pet niece, whose animated, childish chatter and 
smiles of welcome made glad my weary, homesick heart. 
After resting here a few days, accompanied by one of my 
cousins, I again took the train to go to Washington, thence to 
Good Hope, where the Indian Creek Association was held. 
This proved to be the last time I was (as it now appears) ever 
to meet with the people of my faith and order, in a public 
assembly and a church capacity. In the railway coach, in 
which we rode as far as Washington, there were very few travel- 
ers, but when we took the south-bound train for Good Hope, 
the coaches all seemed to be crowded. There was much ani- 
mated conversation going on, and as I caught now and then 
portions of it, I knew I was in company with my own spiritual 
kindred, though I saw no faces that I knew. Just across the 
aisle, sat two sweet-faced ladies, towards whom I felt singularly 
drawn. Try as I would, I could not wholly withdraw my 
gaze from at least one face, which to me seemed quite charm- 
ing. Reader, do you believe in personal magnetism ? I do. 
When I left the train and entered the large, commodious 
carriage sent by my cousin, Robert Yeoman, to meet friends 
going to his house, I was greatly pleased to see the lady of 
whom I spoke become one of the party also. During the ride 
I had no opportunity to address or approach her, but when 
we reached Cousin Robert's she was introduced to me as Sister 
Jennie Shambaugh, of Xenia, Ohio. How my heart bounded 
with pleasurable emotions. She was one of my' loved and 
valued correspondents. When I told her that I quite 
fell in love with her in the train, not dreaming who she 



Reminiscences 6$ 

was, she told me she had experienced the same pleasurable 
emotions regarding myself. I was here joined by Mattie 
Derr, a dear sister whose acquaintance I had formed when 
at Logan. 

Only six months had elapsed since I, with other 
sorrowing friends, had followed the funeral bier of my 
dear father out from this beautiful home, twelve miles 
across the beautiful stretch of country to its final rest- 
ing place in the lovely burial grounds at New Holland. My 
uncle, Albert Parker, was one of the number then, but now 
he too was sleeping the sleep " from which none ever wake 
to weep." Only a year previous to this, another brother, the 
late Elder Joseph Parker, died in this same place. Thus in 
quick succession did my father and his brothers pass away, 
for before the coming of another year still another brother, 
the last of the family save one, was carried to the grave. 
Notwithstanding the sad associations connected with the 
place, and the sorrow I felt when I entered the room which 
had been the place of my father's death-bed scene, I became 
exceedingly happy. Here I met for the first and last time 
our late dear Elder Danks, of Cincinnati ; Elder Harvey 
Wright, of Indiana, and Elder R. M. Thomas, of Missouri. 
Especially did I enjoy the preaching and conversation of 
Elder Danks. The one sermon which I heard him preach 
was from the text, " And this God is our God forever; He 
will be our guide even unto death." It was particularly 
edifying and comforting to me, and many have been the deli- 
cious morsels that I have partaken of as I have gone back, from 
time to time, and gathered up baskets full of fragments. At 
this association I met some of the sweetest, dearest sisters, 
whose minds seemed lifted above the petty vanities of this 
life, and who were as truly refined and cultured as any that it 
has ever been my privilege to meet. It seemed a heaven 
below, and I felt that it certainly was a foretaste of joys of 



64 Reminiscences and Letters 

that sinless clime, "Where congregations ne'er break up." 
This delightful, heavenly assembly, however, must break up, 
sad farewells must be said, partings must take place. But in 
yonder blessed abode, no parting ever comes, no tears are shed, 
the song of praise is not hushed and love flows on and on 
from heart to heart and from the great Fountain Source in an 
unbroken stream of unending joy and unalloyed bliss. 
"Behold," says the Psalmist, "how good and how pleasant 
it is for brethren to dwell together in unity." Sweetly, oh, 
very sweetly, do we realize the truth of this beautiful Psalm, 
when we meet with those who "know the joyful sound," 
who speak the language of one's soul, who " have no confi- 
dence in the flesh," but who give all the glory to our King. 
One of the evidences that we have passed from death unto 
life, saith the Apostle, is that "we love the brethren." Surely 
each heaven-born, awakened soul, no matter how feeble his 
hope, can, when mingling with those who give evidence of 
having been with Jesus and learned of him, lay hold of this 
evidence, and thereby experience a revival of the hope which 
to us seems so small, but which is "an anchor of the soul, 
both sure and steadfast." 

On Sunday evening when the glorious sun was sinking in 
the west,' and all nature seemed to feel that rare hush and serene 
peacefulness we sometimes experience after a Sabbath day of 
worship, and of unclouded brightness, with heartfelt sorrow I 
took leave of my dear kindred in Christ ; and accompanied 
by my cousin, Charles Parker, and Sister Mattie Derr, went 
over to the village of Good Hope, a mile distant, to spend the 
night. When in the quiet of my sleeping-room that night, 
all my bereavements and my loneliness came afresh to mind, 
and the sorrow pent up in my heart burst forth, and the exalted 
tension of my over-strained nerves also gave way, leaving me 
ill, weak and almost strengthless. I thought of each dear 
happy-looking face from which I had parted, and wondered 



Reminiscences 65 

if among all those smiling, seemingly happy beings, there 
was one whose heart was so sad, so bereaved, so homesick as 
mine. All seemed to be ready with eager happy feet to 
turn homeward. I had no home to which to go ; and 
again the cry arose from the great gulf of my sorrow that I 
might die, for I felt at least the earth would not murmur or 
receive me grudgingly. Yet to no one, at least into no 
human ear did I pour my grief; and I had not yet learned 
to go boldly to the throne of grace with the trustfulness of 
a little child, as I believe I have since learned to do ; 
neither had I yet felt in all its sweet fulness, that the dear 
Lord does, indeed, take us up into his everlasting arms, and 
comfort us, "as one whom his mother comforteth." I was 
so prostrated the next day that I had to be carried to the 
train. I had no dropsical symptoms then, but looked ill and 
emaciated, and my presence in the coach created quite a com- 
motion among the passengers, so that the conductor had to 
enquire into the nature of my ailment, in order to restore 
quiet, as it seemed some one started the story that I was a 
yellow fever victim from the South. When we reached 
Washington, we found we were half an hour late, and 
our train was gone. We entered a carriage and were 
driven to a hotel, and here my condition excited 
quite as much alarm as it did on the cars. The occupants all 
left the parlor, and the landlord called my cousin out to 
inquire the cause of my sickness, for here, too, the idea had 
gone over the building that a yellow fever patient had come 
from New Orleans. This was during the terrible epidemic 
reign of that fatal fever in the South. The landlord very 
politely apologized afterwards, but I began to conclude if I 
was becoming such an object of fear to my fellow beings, I 
should certainly keep in the background from henceforth. 
When we reached New Holland it was quite late in the night ; 
the air was balmy, the sky clear, the full moon shed its 



66 Reminiscences and Letters 

radiance upon us, whilst myriads of stars studded the blue 
vault of heaven. My dear, good brother was at the depot 
waiting ; and when he told me he had been disturbed because 
of my non-appearance at an earlier hour, and said that he no 
longer felt satisfied when I was absent, my heart was filled 
with a great, deep thankfulness. Oh, what a soothing balm 
to me were his kind words and deeds. Kind words ! what a 
depth of meaning they express ! What delicious fragrance 
often flows into the dark recesses of the soul at the utterance 
of just one kind word ! 

"Only listen — they are speaking, spirit voices sweet and low, 

Sweet as perfumed breath of summer, gentle as the streamlet's 

flow ; 
When an unkind look is given, when an angry word is said, 
Hark ! they whisper, patience, pardon, bend the knee and bow the 

head." 

How wide is the difference between unkind words and 
kind ones. Whilst "a. soft answer turneth away wrath," and 
a kind look and word falls like a soothing balm into a stricken 
heart, soothing its sorrows, healing its wounds, one angry 
look and word carries into the hearts, often, the poison of rep- 
tiles, and rankles there to show itself in -every evil passion. 
It is only when the love of Christ is in the heart, when 
" Charity which forgiveth all things," controls us, that such 
evil seed sown does not bring forth the same evil fruit. But 
even Christians, though they do forgive, cannot forget ; and 
often the keen anguish that is felt when one has received some 
unkind word or thrust, will be brought back by memory's 
undying efforts, and again and again be felt long after it has 
been spoken. Kind words cost us nothing, and very often 
prove to be "bread cast upon the waters," to return to us 
after many days. I would that we could all more carefully 
cultivate and use them. " Life at best is but a vapor that 
soon vanisheth away," and how much better we would all 



Reminiscences 67 

feel if we could go down to the grave with the consciousness 
that the heart of no fellow being has been wounded or made 
to ache by any unkind word spoken by us. Let us, then, 
strive to utter : 

" Little words of kindness, 

Little deeds of love ; 
'Twill make our home an Eden 
Like to that above." 

I now became permanently settled in the home of my 
youngest brother. I had used every available means to restore 
my health, only to fail. 

I had striven in various ways to settle myself in business, 
so that I might live and set up a home for myself independ- 
ent of my relatives; for of all dreaded calamities the thought 
of being dependent for a home, a burden and in the way, 
was the most terrible. But I had failed in that as well as all 
else, and like Job, I could bitterly, truly say, "That which I 
feared has come upon me. ' ' My disease now laid hold upon 
me with redoubled force, and with the most destructive 
results, undermining both strength of body and mind. I 
became afraid of myself, afraid that in some frenzied moment 
of temporary madness I might end all, by taking my own 
life. Oh ! those dark days of sorrow, when darkness and 
mid-night gloom settled down upon me, so that I dreaded the 
natural light of day. The sunlight mocked me ; the songs 
of birds sank into my heart like death-knells ; nature no 
longer held a charm for me ; and no ray from the Sun of 
Righteousness seemed to penetrate the mid-night darkness. 
Intense as was my bodily pain, far more unbearable was the 
mental anguish that bore down upon me with its crushing 
weight. Nor was this mental state without its causes. I was 
the victim of a deep and bitter wrong ; and like the Psalmist 
David, " It was mine own familiar friend in whom I trusted, 
who did eat bread at my table, who turned the heel against 



68 Reminiscences and Letters 

me." It was not enough that I, who had been so tenderly 
nurtured in a home whose rule was the law of human kind- 
ness, should now be homeless; it was not enough that I had 
lost father and mother and health ; I had yet to endure the 
bitterness of knowing that one, whom I had so dearly loved 
and trusted, had become false, was my enemy, whose bitter 
rage left no stone unturned whereby they might do me an 
injury. " But thanks be unto God who giveth us the victory 
through our Lord Jesus Christ." "Vengeance is mine; I 
will repay saith the Lord." I have lived to see my enemy's 
evil devices for the destruction of another thwarted, and 
returned upon themselves ; and can sweetly say that, " many 
are the afflictions of the righteous, but out of them all the 
Lord delivereth them." Truly when my father and my 
mother did forsake me, then the blessed Lord took me up. 
"Behold, he that keepeth Israel shall neither slumber nor 
sleep." " The Lord is thy Keeper." "The Lord shall pre- 
serve thee from all evil." "The Lord shall preserve thy 
going out and thy coming in, from this time forth, and even 
forever more." What blessed promises, and how sure, com- 
ing from the God who changeth not, and who neither slumbers 
nor sleeps. Truly they who trust in Him " shall be as Mount 
Zion which cannot be removed, but abideth forever." "As 
the mountains are round about Jerusalem, so the Lord is 
round about His people from henceforth even forever. ' ' Then 
what have those who are in Christ, who have put in Him all 
their trust, to fear? Not even Satan, with all his numerous host, 
hath power to injure one hair of our heads. " When I 
remember thee upon my bed, and meditate on thee in the 
night watches. Because thou hast been my help therefore in 
the shadow of thy wings will I rejoice." — Psalm lxiii: 6, 7. 
Oh ! how sweet, after the fierce, black storms that have swept 
over my soul, when I sank down, down amid the waves of the 
mighty deep, that out of the depths my cry went unto the 



Reminisce7ices 69 

Lord, that He heard my voice, and that now I can lift up 
mine eyes "unto the hills from whence cometh my help," 
and that under the shadow of His dear sheltering wings I am 
now made to rejoice, while peace flows like a river into my 
soul, filling every avenue with the pure crystal waters from 
the river- of God's love. Oh ! this wondrous, unfailing 
river, which flows from the throne of God and of the Lamb. 
No wave, not even a ripple of sorrow or woe, shall ever dis- 
turb its pure crystal surface, and none but the redeemed and 
purified shall walk upon its shining banks. But " they that 
have gone up through much tribulation, and have washed their 
robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb," shall 
drink forever from this pure, living stream. 

Not very long after I became settled here the father of 
my brother's wife, who was a widower, living two miles in 
the country alone with his unmarried son, became very ill, 
and sister Lottie was called there to nurse him. My brother's 
business was then such that he was absent all of the time, and 
what to do I did not know. I engaged an elderly woman to 
stay with me who had nothing whatever to do but prepare her 
own meals, as days would elapse without my being able to 
take any nourishment but milk, yet her charges were so 
exorbitant and my funds now becoming so low, I could not 
long retain her. The pastor of the M. E. Church, coming 
in with the doctor one morning, heard me relating my sad 
story, and kindly offered to send one of his daughters to stay 
with me at nights. And thus I dragged along my wretched 
existence until New Years, when death ended the suffering 
of my sister's father, and I had the comfort once more 
of her society. The dropsy had now become one of my 
permanent symptoms; and though I continued to go about 
most of the time and assist some about the work, my per- 
son and limbs were swollen out of all natural proportions. 
One year passed in much this way. Then about the middle 



70 Reminiscences and Letters 

of the second winter I took a hard chill followed by high 
fever, delerium and entire unconsciousness. For sometime, 
though they said my eyes were wide open and staring, I 
could see nothing at all, and would call sister Lottie when 
she was right by me. Soon my left limb became one con- 
tinuous blister. The blister broke, and large quantities of 
water oozed out, leaving the flesh raw for month after month. 
The odor was so bad no one could stay near me. Finally the 
limbs healed so I could walk a little on crutches, but for 
about six months before I quit walking I would fall back- 
ward every time I tried to get up, and often when standing 
quite still I would suddenly lose my balance and fall heavily 
backwards to the floor. Sometimes I would be seized with 
hard cramps, in the whole length of the limbs, until knots 
would form along the leaders. All the while I suffered more 
than tongue can tell. Well do I remember the last time I 
walked. I felt a chill coming on in the morning, and as it was 
warm weather, and there was no fire in any of the rooms but 
the kitchen, I determined to go there. Attempting to get up 
from my couch I fell backward. Calling the hired girl, I 
asked her to assist me to arise ; she did so, kindly helping me 
to a seat near the fire. It was not long until I became uncon- 
scious, and I sat there in the kitchen all day long, conscious 
of nothing save the awful burning and pains in my limbs. 
As night came on my sister and the girl came to help me 
back to my room. At every step it seemed as though sharp- 
pointed needles were piercing my feet and limbs, and gradually, 
day by day, the flesh bursted open, leaving great furrows. The 
flesh on the toes of the left foot fell off, leaving the foot a 
hideous mass. After a time the flesh again grew on the toes ; 
but they were badly deformed, and soon again bursted, and 
have ever since been a mass of ulcers. A greater part of all 
this while I labored under great darkness and depression of 
mind, longing for death above all things. The pain in my 



Reminiscences 7 1 

limbs and body was so great it were vain to attempt to describe 
it \ I just sat on the bed or in the chair and cried most of the 
time. Gradually I grew worse, and day by day did my 
strength slip away, together with all hope of ever being any 
better in health. But as all my earthly hopes and reliances left 
me, one by one, and I watched the flight of earthly joys, expe- 
rienced the spoiling of my earthly idols, there gradually stole 
over my broken spirits the calm, sweet influences of heavenly 
resignation. The promised blessing of the Holy Comforter 
came into the chambers of my soul, and grace, amazing, soul- 
sustaining, saving grace, gave me something of the "oil of joy 
for mourning, and the garment of praise for the spirit of 
heaviness ; ' ' stripped of all earthly props, deprived of those 
earthly blessings which are so pleasant, and are so anxiously 
sought after, my dearest Lord and Saviour, threw round about 
me, even me, who am less than the least of all, His dear, 
everlasting arms. " He strengthened me upon my bed of 
languishing ; He made all my bed in my sickness," and has 
truly, during all this wonderful pathway of almost unparalleled 
suffering and trial, caused " patience to have her perfect 
work." Patience has been a gift to me, just the same as has 
His wondrous grace. "Tribulation/ says Paul, " worketh 
patience." Men and women come to see me from almost 
everywhere. They look with pity and wonder upon my inde- 
scribable suffering. They say they know not how I endure it. 
They give me credit for having great patience ; all the while 
I know no great credit is due me. It is not through any 
power of mine that I sit here from day to day with a serene 
countenance, a greater part of the time " clothed and in my 
right mind," quietly and uncomplainingly enduring what no 
human being could endure alone. But it is all due to " Christ 
who dwelleth in me, the hope of glory," and because " I can 
do all things through Christ, who strengthens me." 



72 Reminiscences and Letters 

It was not very long after the utter breaking down of my 
health until my financial horizon began to darken. Notwith- 
standing the large sums paid to physicians, and nurses and other 
heavy expenses, I had kept within the bounds of my income. 
But soon a gentleman to whom I had loaned money failed ; I 
had no security, so I lost both interest and principal. In less 
than a year a relative by marriage petitioned in court for a 
partition of the real estate, the rents from which the other 
heirs had agreed should be mine during my life. Attorneys 
were employed, and the whole affair put beyond the help or pro- 
testation of the other heirs before I had any knowledge of it. 
This was a severe blow to me ; for those who wished to 
thus deprive me of what was, by verbal agreement, my right, 
were neither sick nor destitute. But the same sustaining 
power held me up, and He who causeth the lilies to grow, 
who feedeth the ravens and careth for the sparrows, has sweetly 
verified His blessed promise to care for me ; and forcibly 
indeed have I realized that He never leaves nor forsakes those 
who trust in Him, and who cast on Him their cares. 

Oh, what a safe resting place, what a calm, sweet retreat, 
have I found beneath the shadow of His sheltering wing ! 
Stripped of all hopes of earthly joys, deprived of almost every 
source of earthly help and trust, I have had no source to 
which to look save " unto the hills from whence cometh my 
help j " and truly " my help has come from the Lord, who 
made heaven and earth." Daily, hourly, does He shed the 
golden sunshine of His love and care about me. He causes 
blessings to flow into my darkened life like distilling dew, 
refreshing my drooping, weary soul and filling my heart with 
thanksgiving and praise. In the gift of a fragrant flower, in 
the offering of some choice article of food, and above all, in 
the love and fellowship manifested to me by my dear spiritual 
kindred throughout the land, I am enabled to see the marks 
of His dear hand, and to return thanksgiving and honor and 



Reminiscences 73 

praise and adoration to his wondrous, matchless name. Then, 
too, the kindness of the dear little family under whose roof I am 
placed, through all these years of such intense pain, in having 
borne with me, and in sharing with me the comforts of their 
pretty little home, has aroused within me emotions of deepest 
gratitude and love, not only to them, but also to the Great 
Giver of all good. The kindness and attentions of the people 
of this village have also been very cheering to me. From the 
beginning of my journey of life until now the love and watch- 
care of my beloved Saviour has been thrown about me ; and 
with assurance I feel to say, "The Lord is my Shepherd, I 
shall not want; " and whether I be low in the valley of 
humiliation, sinking under the weight of affliction and sorrow, 
or upon the mountain top, viewing with rapture the glories 
and beauties of the fair land of Promise, my times are in His 
hand ; and it is always the same dear Friend, constant and 
true, who leadeth me. Oh ! to be led by the hand of such 
a wise and loving Father ; to be encircled by His wondrous 
love ; to be saved by the gift and power of His grace ; what 
more could we wish for ? 

I am now about to close the open volume from which I 
have allowed the reader to read some of the pages of my 
past. Some of its turned-down pages, sealed with a woman's 
tears, in which are youthful hopes, and dreams and aspira- 
tions, have been left undisturbed and untouched ; for even 
myself, when I came to those places, have felt to move softly, 
like one walking over the graves of the sacred dead. It will 
not be long now until this life, to all who now tread the earth, 
will be ended, and the places that know us now will soon 
know us no more forever. 

" Swift as a weaver's shuttle speed our years ; " 

Nor would I stop their flight ; 
" No, hasten and bear me to that golden shore, 

Where eyes shall cease weeping and hearts break no more." 



74 Reminiscences and Letters 

How anxiously do I look forward to the coming of .our 
Lord — to the blessed time when the very same dear, compas- 
sionate, loving Jesus, whom the disciples said, ascended into 
heaven, and who, the angels said, " would come again," and 
who himself said, " where I am there ye shall be also," will, 
with His own dear voice, call me home to the sinless land, to 
be with Him and all the redeemed family for evermore. Here 
we often yearn for the society of the saints, for the companion- 
ship of those we hold most dear, when our longing cannot be 
gratified, because an insurmountable space lies between and 
separates us; but on yonder bright shore there will be no 
intervening space, nor anything to interrupt or mar the sweet 
fellowship of kindred souls. Oh, may we all., by the power 
of His grace, by the indwelling and guidance of His Holy 
Spirit, be made meet to dwell with Him and all the Israel of 
God m glory. This truly is my prayer for Jesus' sake. 

" Holy Spirit, guide and guard me, 
Train me for the realms above; 
There to share the endless glory, 
Purchased by redeeming love. 

Let not worldly joys ensnare us, 

Empty, fleeting, false and vain ; 
Point me to that blissful region, 

Where eternal blessings reign. 

Where no more shall care or sorrow, 

Prey upon my anxious breast, 
Where's no night and no to-morrow, 

But one changeless scene of rest. 

Holy Spirit, hover near me, 

Till this life of death is done ; 
Then in Christian triumph bear me 

To the Almighty, Three in One." 

MARY PARKER. 
New Holland, O., May n, 1891. 



EXPERIENCE 

From "The Signs of the Times/ 1 of April, 1869. 

Copy of a letter written to a minister, and friend; and 
copied for my father. 

I promised you the last time. you were here that I would 
write you the rest of my experience ; but the many cares that 
so soon fell upon me, owing to my mother's affliction, have 
allowed me but little time to write. If I could write as some 
do, it would not be such a task to write to God's dear chil- 
dren ; but I fear that I too much lack in spiritual wisdom and 
understanding, to attempt to write anything concerning those 
things which should at all times make up my thoughts and fill 
my mind with anxious trembling and fear. You already know 
something of the sorrow and trials through which my soul has 
passed ; but as you wish to know more of the way through 
which I have been led, I will try to write you as definitely as 
I can, and if it is unsatisfactory to you, as I am sure it will be 
to me, and if you can discover no traces of a work of grace 
begun in my heart, I hope you will be frank to acknowl- 
edge it. 

I think I was brought to a sense of my sinfulness, and to 
feel the need of a Saviour's love at quite an early age ; but 
I thought I must do something to make me worthy of it — 
something that I had never yet done. I was sick a great deal, 
and one of my aunts told me she was afraid I would not live 



76 Reminiscences and Letters 

to be a woman. I replied if I knew the Lord loved me I would 
be willing to die at any time. She said if I would pray often, 
and ask the Lord to forgive my sins, he would not turn me 
off. And from that time I took to reading the Bible when I 
thought there was no one watching me; and I would often 
try to pray ; but sometimes when trying to pray there would 
come over me such a sense of my wickedness that I would 
start with fear, and run from the place almost shrieking aloud. 
I would think I never would attempt to pray again, for the 
prayers of the wicked are an abomination in the sight of the 
Lord ; and I would quit reading the Bible, too, for every 
thing- there condemned me, and made me more afraid. I 
dreaded for night to come ; for I lay awake many times until 
the midnight hour, thinking of my dreadful condition, and 
fearing often that Satan was near me, ready to bind me in his 
burning chains ; and when at last I would fall asleep I would 
sometimes be startled with the most frightful dreams ; and at 
one time I dreamed of Satan's being at my bedside, trying to 
get me away with him. The family noticed there was some- 
thing wrong, and said they were afraid I was going crazy ; 
and I wondered if I really was rational. But this fear of hell, 
and of Satan wore away, or at any rate the worst of it left me, 
and I was brought to think more of Christ ; but not as my 
Saviour. I read the Bible sometimes ; and although I loved 
to read of the sufferings and crucifixion of Christ, and could 
see plainly how others might be cleansed by His blood, I 
could not think it could reach me. Christ died for the elect, 
and they were chosen in Him before the foundation of the 
world ; and his saving power would reach no farther. I felt 
this to be a hard doctrine, but nevertheless true. I believed 
that the Lord's people were an elect people; but they were 
happy and Christlike, and although I outwardly appeared as 
good as they, I was inwardly vile as could be, and very like 
Satan ; and how dared I to think that Christ died for me. It 



Experience 7 7 

would be wicked, presumptuous sin, and would only draw me 
nearer to the brink of hell. O no ! I must try to banish such 
thoughts; I was not fit to think of Christ. He is pure, and 
righteous, and holy; lam all corruption. But, oh, I could 
not help it, I must think of Jesus, must want to love him. 
Was he not meek, tender, and compassionate? Did he not 
say, "Come unto me, all ye that labor, and are heavy laden, 
and I will give you rest?" Was I not heavy laden? and 
might there not be a little hope? Thus I would reason with 
myself, and there would a quietness steal over me for awhile; 
and indeed I would become quite careless for a time — would 
seek gay company, become light and vain, and think I would 
never have those gloomy thoughts any more. It was no use ; 
I could be cheerful like my young associates if I would try, 
and oh ! I would. But soon a gloomy depression would seize 
me, and I would be sorry I had joined those merry outbursts 
of laughter, and taken part in their foolish acts and light con- 
versation. It was often difficult to get my mind on my 
studies at school, and my heart seemed to be filled with such 
wicked rebellion toward God, I was afraid to look in His 
word lest the wickedness in my heart would gush forth in 
words, and thus bring more wrath and indignation upon me ; 
and where could I turn for help ? Did not God clothe and 
feed me, and preserve the lives of those I love as well as pro- 
long my own life ? and why could I not love Him, and look 
to him for the salvation of my soul? And in spite of all the 
rebellion in my heart I felt a longing desire toward Christ. 
I certainly did want to love him ; there was none else to turn 
to ; and if I could only feel that he would let me love him, 
that he would let me cling to him as my strong tower, 
my rock, my refuge, my all, how happy I would be, and 
how secure from the storms of Satan that had so threatened 
to engulf me. But I could see nothing in myself to merit 
his love ; I was so unlike any one else. I know when I 



78 Reminiscences and Letters 

heard Christians talk, they did not appear to think they 
were good but seemed to feel very sinful. But oh, they 
were not like me ! They were the elect, were born again, 
and had been made righteous through the righteousness 
that is in Christ Jesus. They possessed two natures, the 
old one sinful, but it could do them no harm ; they were 
now safe in Christ; while I had but one nature, and that 
altogether sinful. When about twelve years of age I 
attended a Methodist prayer-meeting, which was held at a 
neighbor's house, and after they were done praying an old 
man arose, and talked to the young folks awhile, and finally 
began walking around the room, talking to each one sepa- 
rately ; and as he drew near where I sat, he asked a young 
girl if she loved the Lord, and she openly replied in the 
negative. He admonished her most severely, and told her 
she was going straight to hell, and spoke much like he 
thought she could help it, if she would only "become 
resolved." I began to fear he would come to me and 
ask the same question; and how could I answer him? 
Would it be right to say I love the Lord ? O no ; it would 
be acting the hypocrite I feared : and yet I could not, dared 
not, answer as that young girl did. I wondered if Christians 
really knew they loved the Lord ; and I longed to tell father 
and mother how troubled I was ; but O no ! I would not 
have them know I was feeling so for anything. I did speak 
to a young Baptist lady, who was spending the winter here, 
about my feelings, and she talked very kindly and comfort- 
ingly to me, and also related to me some of her own experi- 
ence. And now I began to wonder if this really was the 
Lord at work in my heart. Perhaps it might be. Perhaps I 
might yet behold that pure and holy God, and praise him 
like those favored ones who have had their robes washed 
and made white in the blood of the Lamb. I felt calm 
now, and I thought almost happy ; but still I had not 



Experience 79 

lost my burden of sin, and I soon began to wish that I 
had not spoken of my feelings to my friend ; for it seemed 
she did not see me as I saw myself, or comprehend my words 
aright ; besides, I was afraid she would tell my parents I was 
born again, and thus I would not only be a sinner, but also a 
hypocrite and deceiver of God's people. I was now old 
enough to be invited to parties, and I attended several with 
my brothers, but always felt so badly afterwards that I resolved 
not to go to places of merriment of any kind ; and when 
asked why I was so old-fashioned, and solicited by my brothers 
to accompany them, I would answer I did not think it right 
to go ; besides I could not enjoy them. And this also would 
make me feel as though I were acting the hypocrite ; for by 
withdrawing from the world and its pleasures, was I not trying 
to make believe I was pious ! Did not Satan prompt me to 
do these things, and thus make me an instrument of his, 
to try to deceive some of the elect ? And on the whole, 
was it not very 'gratifying to my nature to have people think 
I was good and pious ? These thoughts would drive me almost 
mad, and I would pray God not to let me be a hypocrite — to 
take me out of the horrible pit and miry clay, and forgive 
my many sins. About this time my father baptized two 
young ladies at Waterloo, both of whom I knew and loved, 
and with one of whom I had been corresponding. They wrote 
him their experience, and he asked me to read one of them 
aloud to some friends one evening. I knew what the letter 
contained, and although I wanted to read it, and did not like 
to disobey father's wishes, still I felt I must refuse ; for if I 
tried to read it aloud I feared I would lose all self-control, 
and then thought I would lay myself liable to be questioned 
by my father, and this I dreaded above everything else ; for 
what could I tell him ? True, I was troubled, and in some 
things it seemed much like those girls ; but they were soon 
delivered, while I was hedged in on every side by Satan and 



80 Reminiscences and Letters 

corruption, which I could not see through. They were happy 
and could look away to Christ, and had recognized Him as 
their Redeemer ; but my case was quite different from theirs. 
But on being pressed I began to read the letter, and had read 
but little when my heart began to swell so that I felt I must 
quit ; and I told father as calmly as I could that I could not 
read more ; and said, by way of excuse, the room was too 
warm, and I would smother if I did not get some air. On 
leaving the room I met mother coming in, and she inquired 
what ailed me. I replied, my voice choking with emotion, 
that I did not know. I cannot express the sorrow I felt when 
alone. It seemed of all the Lord's creatures there was not 
one like me — none so miserable and wretched. And although 
I tried to pray and ask the Lord to make me like those girls, 
to show me my sins and lead me to Christ, it gave me no 
relief; for I could not think that He would hear me, or that 
I had in any way been led as they. Surely, I thought, there 
was no hope for me. There had been times when I had hoped 
that I might one day receive a hope in Christ, but it was no 
use to deceive myself longer, and I reflected on some things I 
had said to my grandmother when alone with her, and a few 
allusions to my mother concerning Christ, when I felt some- 
what calm in my mind ; and these things alone were enough 
to sentence my soul to everlasting banishment. For my grand- 
mother had told me that she thought Christ did love me, that 
I would be saved, and that she thought me good ; and it was 
plainly seen that all this was done to make them believe that 
I was a Christian, while I was nothing but a miserable hypo- 
crite, a presumptuous reprobate. And oh ! why could I not 
be wise ? Why would I drag my own soul into hell and make 
good Christians, whom I dearly loved, think I was good, and 
not tell them what I really was ? I attended meeting every 
month, but very often I did not remember anything that was 
said ; and if I would pay attention to the preaching for awhile 



Experience 81 

and become affected when the minister talked on experience, 
my mind would soon be drawn away, either to reflect on the 
condition of my soul, or on something worldly. But I must 
pass over many things here that crowd my mind. You spoke 
truly when you said you knew I could not tell you all I had 
experienced. I will now come to the year 1865, and a few 
months before you visited us the first time. I was taken sick 
in June, and I felt as though I would never recover. There 
was a heavy burden resting upon my mind, but I did not seem 
to have much fear of hell, for I felt that — 

"If my soul were sent to hell, 
His righteous law approved it well." 

But I had a great desire to be found in Christ, and be num- 
bered with the redeemed. Christ said, " Except a man be 
born again, he can not see the kingdom of God." And this 
occupied my mind almost constantly. I very much feared 
that I had no right to think that I had been born again. I felt 
perfectly helpless, and knew if I were saved at all, it must be 
by Christ alone. I had thought I must do something myself 
to make me worthy of His love. I had tried, or rather had 
tried to try, but only grew worse ; and in looking over my 
life there was so much to regret, and so little that was pleasing 
to the Lord, I knew that if myself or works had anything to 
do with saving my soul, I was forever lost. My friends were 
very kind to me during my illness, but no one said anything 
to me about the one thing that most troubled my mind ; and 
I did so desire to hear Christians talk, and thought it would 
be such a relief if I could hear father pray, or some one 
preach. When I became convalescent, the same lady to 
whom I first spoke of my feelings was again visiting here, and 
when alone with her one evening she asked me to tell her all. 
I told her how sin-sick I was, and how helpless, and that there 
could be no hope for me, for none could be saved but the elect ; 



82 Reminiscences and Letters 

and if I were of the elect, if Christ loved me, I would have 
had some manifestation of it, and some evidence that my sins 
were pardoned. One evening, a short time after this, I walked 
out a short distance alone to pray. I felt like my heart would 
break, and although it seemed wrong and useless to implore 
God for mercy, yet I felt I must. I would only utter the cry 
of the poor publican ; and almost before the cry had escaped 
my lips there seemed to be a great light enveloping me. I 
cannot describe it. It was so brilliant and beautiful that I 
felt I was going to be ushered into the immediate presence of 
Jehovah, and knew that no one could see God and live. I 
was seized with trembling ; but when I arose and opened my 
eyes, my burden was gone. Jesus was mine now, and life 
would no longer be a burden, nor death a dread. My heart 
was like a glad child's, and such a sweet, blessed peace stole 
over me that I thought sin and doubts would never trouble me 
more. Everything seemed changed, and the moon, which 
before looked dark and frowny, seemed to be shining upon 
me as if it too might be glad I had found peace with God. 
But this delightful feeling did not last long, and before you 
came here I was sunk in the lowest depths of despondency. 
Your sermon the first day, which was the first preaching I 
had heard for a long time, seemed particularly adapted to my 
feelings. I had thought I had not a friend in the world ; 
there was no one cared whether such a sinner was saved or not. 
But my heart was drawn out toward you, and I thought I would 
like to talk to you about my trouble ; but when I came 
home you were engaged in conversation with father, and I 
neither saw an opportunity to talk with you, nor longer par- 
ticularly desired it. That night while you were praying I felt 
quite indifferent, until you began to pray for a "poor sinner, 
if there might be one present, who was seeking the Lord's 
face, sorrowing • " and I found it difficult to control my emo- 
tions until you had finished. When we arose, I went into the 



Experience 8$ 

next room to recover my self-possession. You came in 
directly, affecting to want a drink of water, and asked me if 
I were not in trouble ; and you know what I told you. I was 
surprised indeed when you said you thought I was born again, 
and a fit subject for baptism. I told you in my letters after- 
ward what kept me so long from taking up my cross and following 
the Saviour in the ordinance of baptism. And I thought I 
would not, dared not make an open profession of religion. It 
was too presumptuous, too assuming for one so sinful and insig- 
nificant ; but that saying of Christ, " He that denieth me 
before men shall be denied before the angels of God," haunted 
me continually ; and although I felt unworthy, and still do, 
of the least place among His saints, yet I sometimes feel thank- 
ful that I was at last enabled to take up my cross and follow 
Him who is meek and lowly in heart. O, it is so sweet to trust 
in Christ, to lean upon Him, feel His love, and look to Him for 
everything ; and although our path in life may be hard, and 
death may take from us those we love, if Christ be our friend, 
we need fear no evil ; for will He not make us to lie down in 
green pastures, and lead us beside still waters ? and shall not 
His rod and His staff comfort us ? How I ought to praise Him, 
even while here, that He has made me, as I trust, to see the 
exceeding sinfulness of sin, to hunger and thirst after righteous- 
ness, and desire to turn from the world with all its deceitful 
pleasures and vanities forever, to seek my all in Christ, and 
thank Him that He does, notwithstanding my wanderings and 
backslidings in heart, sometimes manifest Himself to me as 
the God of my salvation, and make me to rejoice with joy that 
is unspeakable. How can I describe this sweet peace, this 
quiet that sometimes steals over me, and most often it comes 
after a severe storm that I have thought would swallow me up 
in its dense blackness, so that the Sun of Righteousness could 
not get to me with healing in His wings. But, blessed be the 
name of Jesus, He walketh upon the storm, and with His gentle 



84 Reminiscences and Letters 

and compassionate voice, cries, "It is I, be not afraid." O, 
if I could but be more believing, look more to Christ, and not 
so much to myself, 'how much faster and lighter would the steps 
of time move on, and how much more patiently could I wait 
until my change come. 

But I fear I will tax your patience too severely. I have 
only hinted a part of my experience, but it will appear selfish 
to write more of my thoughts, unless they were more weighty. 
I have been obliged to pen my thoughts hurriedly, and if I have 
been paradoxical in some places, and in others tediously 
minute, I hope you will excuse me. With such a mind and 
intellect, how could I do anything nicely or to my satis- 
faction ? Father has spoken words of comfort and consolation 
to me, but I would rather have the opinion of some one who 
loves me less. If you have doubts that I have been taught in 
Heaven's school, don't, I beg you, shrink from telling me so. 
O that the Lord would strengthen my weak hands and feeble 
knees if I am His child, that I may "walk and not be weary, 
and run, and not faint." 

Hoping the Lord will keep you from error and guide 
you into all truth, 

I am, as ever, your friend, 

MARY PARKER. 



LETTERS 

The following letter contains some particulars of the 
sudden attack of Elder Parker referred to in the Reminis- 
cences, which affected both mind and body, and from which 
he never fully recovered, although his death did not occur 
until about eight years afterward. It was written, as will 
appear, at his request when he was very feeble, and when her 
mother was a helpless invalid, and expresses her own emotions 
under the sad and trying circumstances, and her abiding trust 
in the Lord. The two letters which immediately follow this 
speak particularly of the last hours of her dear mother, of her 
own illness afterward and of the change which this bereave- 
ment made necessary in her home. 

Ewing, Hocking County, Ohio, April 26, 1869. 
Elder Durand : 

I shrink and almost faint at the task that is before me. 
Since you received that letter from my father a great change 
has taken place in him. He was complaining at the time the 
letter was written, and was then so nervous that he could 
scarcely feed himself; but he said nothing about it to you, 
thinking that it was only caused by becoming too much 
fatigued during a rather tedious journey that he had finished 
only a little while before, and that it would soon pass off. 
But it was not so. Those nervous symptoms seemed to 
increase rather than diminish ; and that, together with his 
asthma, has kept him from attending any of his appointments 
abroad (except two) during all of the three winter months. 



86 Remifiiscences and Letters 

He preached at Scott's Creek on the second Saturday 
and Sunday in March, and the next Wednesday, the weather 
being fine, and his health, he thought, improving, he started 
to fill his appointment at Waterloo. He reached my brother's, 
in New Holland, on the evening of the 19th, where he was 
taken violently ill, sometime during the night, with bilious 
typhoid-pneumonia. 

The physician succeeded in breaking the fever in a few 
days, but afterwards an abscess formed and opened in his right 
lung, and he has since been so ill that no one, not even the 
physicians, of whom three were called, had the least hope 
that he would recover. I went to my brother's as soon as I 
heard that he was so ill, and, with the exception of one day 
and night, when I was quite sick myself, I have been in con- 
stant attendance on him. He knew me when I got there and 
said, "I am so glad you have come to me, dear. I am so 
sick ; but it is all right. Everything my Father does is all 
right." 

He has borne his sickness, it appears to me, with almost 
supernatural endurance, and has never been heard to mur- 
mur or complain, no matter how severe his suffering. The 
disease seems to affect his intellect, and it is sadly impaired. 
Sometimes he will speak quite rationally, then again he will 
talk very wildly. His voice is very weak, but of late he 
wants to talk much. He will begin a subject, but before he 
proceeds far his ideas seem to desert him, and unless we can 
guess from his beginning what he was going to tell, we can- 
not make out his meaning. Of this he seems to be perfectly 
conscious, and says he is afraid that he will never know 
anything again. From the time that the abscess formed in 
his lung, we could discover no change for the better until 
some over a week ago. His cough became less violent and 
his lung has since been healing. As his body began to gain 
strength, his mind became more rational and he seemed to 



Letters 87 

realize now for the first time that he was far from his wife and 
home. The doctor said that his one thought now was to get 
home, and his mind had become so childish that his every 
wish must be indulged or the result would almost kill him. 
There would be a great risk to run, he said, in taking him so 
far while he was so weak, but he did not think he would get 
any better while there, and last Wednesday I, in company 
with my brother Eden, started to bring him home. He stood 
the trip to Bremen on the cars very well, and after resting at 
the house of a Baptist friend in Bremen two days, we 
resumed our journey. But this part of the journey, a distance 
of twenty-five miles, which had to be made in a carriage and 
over rough mud roads, proved very fatiguing to him. We 
reached home, however, last Sunday, and with the exception 
of being some weaker, I cannot see that the journey has made 
him much worse. On my return home I found quite a number 
of letters to my father, and among them a very excellent one 
from you. I read it to him and I think he understood the 
greater part of it pretty well. When I finished reading it he 
said, " O, it is so nice," and made me promise him that I 
would write you a line soon, telling you how ill he has been ; 
and it is by his request, as well as that of my mother, that I 
write you these lines. 

Father has spoken of you several times during his illness. 
At one time he said he would like to see you again. He 
had thought he could meet you at some of your associations, 
but it was all over now. The physician says he thinks that 
unless he takes a relapse he may possibly recover, but it will 
be ? long time ; and it will be several months, he says, before 
he is able to resume his ministerial labors, if ever. I have 
much feared that if he did recover his health he would not his 
soundness of mind, but the doctor assures me that as his 
health and strength return so will his memory and presence of 
mind. This is a severe trial to my mother, who is still badly 



88 Reminiscences and Letters 

afflicted, and also to me, for my heart has always been so 
wrapped up in my father. But the Lord knows best, and His 
will must be done in all things. If my father's work is fin- 
ished here I think he will be taken home. If not, I know the 
Lord is able to raise him up from this bed of affliction, and 
prepare him to still be of use in His cause. 

I was sorry indeed to hear of the affliction in your father's 
family, but God's people are an afflicted people, and I know 
that the Lord will strengthen and comfort you in all of your 
trials, and enable you to speak comfortably to those of your 
family who may not be so strong to endure such trials. Min- 
isters, I think, of all others are best fitted to endure these 
things. They are able to look at such things rightly, to meet 
them calmly, and submit to the Lord's will in every thing 
with patience. At any rate it has always seemed so with my 
father ; and in every trial of my life, until now, I have sought 
words of comfort from him, which he gave so willingly. My 
parents are growing old and afflicted. As they are now I fear 
that I will not long be blest with their society here. But 
when every earthly prop is gone, and every dear tie broken, I 
hope I will be brought to cling more closely to Christ, and 
rest more steadfastly in his blessed promises. I drew much 
comfort from your last letter to my father, and I hope you 
will accept my thanks for it. I do not know whether he will 
ever be able again either to write or to dictate; but if he is, 
he will be glad, I know, to resume the correspondence with 
you. You correspond with Elder Barker, and I suppose you 
can hear from my father through him. Knowing myself as I 
do it is a great task to write to any of the Lord's children, 
and this is why I so shrink from obeying my parents wishes 
in writing to you. My mother and brother John wish to be 
remembered in love to you. My uncle, Albert Parker, and 
his wife, who have lately been here, also send love and kind 
wishes. Please give my love to your sisters. I have never 



Letters 89 

met them, but I am sure the Lord loves them, and I hope I 
love his children everywhere. Hoping we may have the 
privilege of hearing from you often through the Signs, if we 
cannot privately, and hoping also, the Lord will be with you 
through all of your trials, I am, I hope, 

Your sister in Christ, 

MARY PARKER. 



Ewing, Hocking Co., Ohio. 

April, 1870. 
Elder Silas H. Durand : 

Dear Brother : 

I have been very ill, and if I write it will be with 
great difficulty, but I thought I would try, and hope you will 
pass by the many mistakes you will be likely to find. You will 
perhaps have learned, through the Signs, ere this reaches 
you, that I have no dear mother now. She was taken to her 
long, happy home on Tuesday evening, March 13th. It is the 
greatest sorrow I ever knew, but we have all been soothed and 
strengthened by Him who is our refuge and strength, a 
very present help in trouble, and by the sweet assurance 
that our loved one is now enjoying the smiles of her blessed 
Redeemer, and is forever freed from sorrow and sin, and all 
the ills of this life. She had been complaining for about a 
month ; but as she had been subject to such spells, and we 
had been assured by the physician that her disease would not 
cause death, we did not feel very uneasy. On Monday 
evening the doctor called and said she was doing finely, and 
that she would be quite strong in a few days. The next 
morning, which was her last morning on earth, she sat in her 
arm chair while I arranged her bed and hair, but I noticed she 
became very tired, and her face and eyes had a look I had not 
seen them wear before. At about one o'clock in the after- 



90 Reminiscences and Letters 

noon she suddenly took very bad, and her suffering was 
intense until half an hour before she died, when she lay 
perfectly quiet, and seemed to have no pain in body or 
mind. She was conscious until the last, and when the doctors 
came she told them it was no use ; she was almost gone. I 
knelt beside her a few moments before she breathed her last. 
She drew me to her and, kissing me passionately, said : " Don't 
fret ; I am calm ; the Lord will take care of all of us. ' ' They 
took me away then, but my brother Amos told me that she 
smiled, and all was over. Oh ! Elder Durand, if you could have 
seen the face of my dear mother after death, and noted the smile 
that lingered on her lips and lighted up her countenance so 
that it looked like that of an angel, you could not have 
doubted that Jesus had been there, and that she was now in 
the full enjoyment of that rest for which her soul so longed 
while here. 

Soon after my mother died I was taken with a fainting 
spell, and the next morning had the same disease that caused 
my mother's death. I was glad when the doctor told me, and 
felt greatly soothed by the thought and hope that I would 
soon be where mother and Jesus are ; but, for some purpose 
unknown to me, my life has been prolonged, and I find that I 
must still linger here in this dark world of sorrow, to suffer, 
sin and be tried. But in this, as well as in all things else, I 
would pray, Thy will, O Lord, not mine, be done. Father's 
health and mind have been much better since I wrote you 
last, and he preached twice this winter, almost as well as he 
used to ; but this great affliction is very hard for him, and he 
is very feeble now. It greatly distressed me when I lay sick 
to have him watch me so anxiously, when I felt that he so 
needed my care. I hope to soon be able to take care of him 
again ; and hope, too, that he may be spared to me yet a little 
while, until this wound is at least slightly healed. It is very 
hard for my father to live without mother, for their lives have 



Letters 91 

been so closely linked together. Mother was born in New 
Jersey, father in East Virginia ; but their parents came to this 
state and settled in the same neighborhood at the same time. 
They married early, were awakened, received a hope in Christ, 
and were baptized at the same time ; and his life will be very 
lonely now indeed. 

When your letter came I was not allowed to see any one 
but my relations, but they let me read it, and it did me much 
good. I think the Lord put it into your heart to write just 
when you did. Let me thank you for writing, and for those 
pleasant words of fellowship you spoke. I had often thought 
that you, and all who read my poor letter that was published 
in the Signs, must certainly know that I am a dreadful hypo- 
crite. The news of the death of your venerable and highly 
gifted father made me very sad. My parents also expressed 
their sorrow and sympathy at your great loss. Your family 
has had deep affliction ; but few are so blessed with spiritual 
gifts and blessings. Your sister Bessie's communication in the 
Signs of March 13th, I have lately read. It was very com- 
forting to me, and made my heart bound forth in love to her. 
Those are precious words our Saviour spoke, and that you 
quoted in your letter, "I will not leave you comfortless; " 
and He says, too, " I will come to you ; " "I will never leave 
nor forsake you," and many other blessed sayings and promises 
we have, without which we would not know where to go, or 
how to bear up under the great waves of sorrow that go over 
us. We know, too, in times like this, that His promises are 
sure, and that he is not slack in performing them, when we 
feel them fulfilled in ourselves. Those books arrived safely, 
and I scarcely need tell you that we were highly pleased 
and comforted by them. Sister Sarah took sick some time in 
February, and has been confined to her room ever since ; but 
I hear she is convalescent now, and hope she will be able to 
meet with the rest of the saints, in the house prepared for the 



9 2 



.emimscences am 



worship of God, on next Saturday. It is my father's inten- 
tion now to sell the farm, and leave this vicinity by fall. I 
hope we will find ourselves settled among some of the dear 
people of God. May I not hope that when you have leisure 
you will indulge me with another of your comforting letters ? 
Your sister in affliction and sorrow, 

MARY PARKER. 



Ewing, September 4, 1870. 
Miss Rosina B. Durand. 

Dear Sister in Christ : 

Your pleasant and very comforting letter has been in 
the house one month, and yet remains unanswered. 

I was taken very sick at the time of mother's death, with 
inflammation of the stomach, and a disease of the spine. I 
thought myself recovering when I wrote to your brother ; but 
the disease returned within a few days with most alarming 
force, and before there was any change for the better I was 
brought very near the grave. I am able now to go about and 
superintend the affairs of the house; but still am weak in 
body and mind. My physician says I need not hope to 
recuperate otherwise than slowly, but I find myself much too 
frequently murmuring at my slow recovery, and the hardness 
of my lot. 

When I look about me and see the many blessings that 
have thus far attended my pathway, and how undeserving I 
have ever been of any one of the blessings I have enjoyed, I 
feel that my murmurings and complaints should be forever 
hushed, and that the remainder of the days allotted to me 
here should be spent in praise and thanksgiving to Him from 
whom all our blessings flow. I have greatly missed the affection 
and kind sympathy of my dear mother in my affliction ; and 
who would not ? for what love can be stronger and of more 



Letters 93 

infinite value, except the love of Christ itself, than that of a 
gentle and affectionate mother? But still I have not wanted 
to complain, or wish her back again. In the realm of ever- 
lasting love and light how much better off are those of our 
friends whom we have reason to believe have gone there, 
than we who can scarcely ever get a glimpse of the eternal 
glories of God, and who, when we do see them, ct see through 
a glass darkly." I cannot tell you, dear sister, how gladly I 
received your letter, and the interest its contents awakened 
within me. I know that I could not, were I in health, write 
a letter that would compare with yours, and I cannot hope to 
say anything to comfort you, or pay you for the pains in writ- 
ing ; but when I say that your letter did comfort a poor weak 
sinner, who, you say, you believe is looking forward to the 
same precious hope that you yourself enjoy, will you not 
feel repaid for your trouble ? 

I was much animated at the faint hope your letter gave 
me that I might have the pleasure of seeing you once in the 
flesh, and that we would once again be refreshed by the com- 
ing of your brother among us ; but as it is now autumn, and 
we have had no other tidings that you are coming, I fear our 
hopes will not be fulfilled. Perhaps you will come yet ; and 
I should be so very glad to have you come here, and would 
do all I could to make your stay pleasant. My father seems 
pretty well in body at present, though his mind is still 
impaired. He does not often attempt to speak in the pulpit. 
The news of the death of Elder Samuel Carpenter, one of the 
oldest as well as the most gifted ministers belonging to the 
Muskingum Association, has lately reached us ; and it gives 
father great sorrow, as they had long been very intimate 
friends, and have met and conquered many difficulties 
together. Father has much to suffer and endure, but his kind 
Master, whom he has long served, will not forsake him in his 
hour of anguish and trial. His Bible and "bower," as he 



94 



Reminiscences and Letters 



terms his place of prayer, seem dearer to him than anything 
else ; and sometimes when I hear him speak of the goodness 
of God, and listen to his humble, affecting prayer, I feel 
strongly impressed that it will not be long until he, too, will 
be called away to dwell with Christ and the angels in glory. 
My sheet is almost full, and I fear to allow myself another. 
Your dear mother, sister and yourself will please accept my 
best love. We would all likewise wish to be remembered 
kindly to Elder Durand. If you are willing to bear with the 
poor return your letter meets, I hope to hear from you again, 
and may then be in a better mood to reply. 
Affectionately your unworthy sister, 

MARY PARKER. 



EXTRACTS 

Between the years 1876 and 1887 a number of private 
letters were published in The Signs of the Times, and repub- 
lished by Mrs. Alma F. McNaughten in a little volume enti- 
tled, very appropriately, "Collection of Gems," which con- 
tained also many other letters written by our dear Sister 
Mary. These letters are very interesting ; rich in expression 
of her deep and varied experience, and clear in statement of 
gospel truth. As that book has been widely circulated, how- 
ever, we have not thought best to give them in full in this 
volume, but present a few extracts which have particular refer- 
ence to scenes and circumstances mentioned in the Reminis- 
cences, and to her own condition ; such as will help to bring 
her, in her peculiarly tried and afflicted life, more clearly and 
intimately into the acquaintance of her many loving and sym- 
pathizing friends who have never seen her, which is the object 
in publishing this book. 



Letters 95 

New Holland, O., Sept. 19, 1876. 
Dear Sister Helen : 

I address this letter to you, but I write not alone to you, 
but also to your dear sisters and mother. 

Through the goodness of God we arrived home safely. 
We were both greatly fatigued, but neither of us found much 
opportunity to rest, for we found our home too damp to stay 
in, with everything covered with mold, and one of my 
brothers and his wife very sick with typhus fever. This fever, 
with its almost always fatal consequences, has been prevailing 
here for a few weeks to an alarming extent, and the entire 
community seems overcast with gloom and dread. There is 
scarcely a day that we do not see the hearse pass by, amid the 
tolling of the bells, reminding us that one after another of our 
fellow-beings is being summoned by the Master to enter upon 
an eternity, either of endless punishment and woe, or of ever- 
lasting joy and light and peace. How terrible it must be to 
die without an interest in the blood which alone cleanseth 
from all sin ! But to enjoy a good hope through grace, and 
to feel within ourselves the sweet assurance that when the 
storm of life is past there is a home prepared for us in the 
paradise of God, is too sweet, too glorious for expression. 
There, too, we know that we shall be entirely freed from the 
terrible fetters of sin that so bind and annoy us here, and that 
we shall be clothed in "raiment clean and white," and that, 
instead of this vile body, clothed in its filthy habiliments of 
sin, we shall have a spiritual body clothed in the glorious robe 
of righteousness. 

I would like to have spent a longer time in your society, 
as would also my father. He was deeply impressed with his 
visit at your hospitable home, and says he thinks of it every 
hour in the day. 

Do you remember the first conversation we had about 
spiritual things, Sister Helen? In the morning, soon after 



g6 Reminiscences and Letters 

we arrived, I was lying upon the bed in your mother's room; 
you sat down beside me, and in the few moments of the inter- 
change of thoughts my heart was drawn toward you in a love 
that I trust is not worldly in its nature. Afterward, while 
conversing with your sisters, seeing how anxiously they 
desired to hear spiritual conversation, and listening to the 
few expressions of their feelings they gave, I felt the same 
warmth of love to them and your dear mother that was already 
kindled in my heart for you. The Apostle John says, "We 
know that we have passed from death unto life because we love 
the brethren ; " and when we meet those who at once give an 
evidence that they " have been with Jesus, and have learned 
of Him," though they be strangers in the flesh, yet do we feel 
a love and heavenly drawing toward them. Should not this 
strengthen our feeble hope, and sweetly assure us that we are 
the characters to whom the gospel is addressed ? 

My health, as well as my father's, is about as it was when 
I saw you. I cannot see that my disease yields any, either to 
internal treatment or to outward influences. But I do think 
my visit to Kentucky invigorated my mind. The entire free- 
dom from care, the new and delightful scenes, and the kind 
and sympathizing faces that greeted me everywhere, were 
very restful to the mind. My feeble strength has been greatly 
taxed since my return by helping attend the sick, and restor- 
ing our home to its usual order. Through the mercy of God 
my brother and his wife are now convalescing, and we have 
reason to hope they will soon be fully restored to health. I 
have often thought since we came home how nice it would be 
to have you visit me, Sister Helen. Can you not do so ? You 
and one of your sisters could come. 

I beg you to excuse this poor letter, written in the midst 
of many interruptions. We send much love to all, your kind 
father included. Hoping to hear from you soon, I am, 
Affectionately, your unworthy sister, 

MARY PARKER. 



Letters 97 

New Holland, Ohio, Sept., 1877. 

Dear Brother and Sister Cartwright : 

Your welcome and kind letter reached me at Logan, 
where I have been staying most of the time since dear father's 
death. At the earnest solicitation of my uncle, Mr. Albert 
Parker, I went to his house as soon as affairs here were so that 
I could leave, fully expecting to remain there until winter ; 
but a few weeks after my arrival there my dear uncle was 
torn from us, and taken up where Jesus and the dear saints 
reign in glory. It was a trying scene to me, so soon after 
witnessing the death of my beloved father, to stand by the 
death-bed of my next-best earthly friend, to see three little 
children suddenly bereft of a tender father's love and care, 
and my gentle, clinging aunt robbed of her earthly friend and 
protector; but I think I may truthfully say that underneath 
it all we have felt the " everlasting arms." My uncle lay a 
corpse in the house several days, and during the first two days 
the grief of his little son Frank was heartrending to witness ; 
all efforts to console him seemed fruitless. Not only did he 
mourn the loss of his dear father, but he seemed bowed down 
with a sense of his own sinfulness and depravity, and was 
made to feel that where his father had gone he could never 
come — the separation must be forever. But blessed be God, 
who comforteth them that are cast down, He was pleased to 
reveal Himself to this tried and broken-hearted child as his 
Saviour and Redeemer, and to give him " beauty for ashes, 
the oil of joy for mourning, and the garments of praise for 
the spirit of heaviness." To hear that child speak of the 
goodness of God in appearing to him in the midst of sorrow 
and mourning, and removing the great, the heavy load of sin, 
in speaking peace to his troubled soul, and making his 
bleeding heart rejoice with joy that is unspeakable 
and full of glory, was truly wonderful. A lady 



98 Reminiscences and Letters 

who stood by, listening with the rest of us, in breathless 
silence, to the sweet ascriptions of joy and praise that came 
from the child's lips, said : " You had been praying and call- 
ing upon the Lord, had you not?" "No," said, he, 
" I do not think I was thinking of the Lord at all. I was 
sitting on the sofa in the parlor, when, it seems, my mind 
was taken off of my sorrow, off of all earthly things, and 
was led up into heaven, where I saw Jesus and father, in a 
happy world, where no suffering could reach him." And 
here he again spoke of the goodness and loving kindness of 
God, of the vanity and emptiness of the world, and of the 
inability of ourselves to do anything to merit salvation, in a 
manner that rejoiced as well as astonished us all beyond 
expression. How true, I thought, that " it is not of him that 
willeth, but of God who showeth mercy. ' ' 

On Saturday after dear uncle's interment, little Frank 
related his exercise of mind before the church at Scott's Creek, 
and was baptized the next day by Elder Barker, so that whilst 
the church mourned the loss of one of its most efficient mem- 
bers, still they have cause to rejoice that God's wisdom and 
power have been displayed in so remarkable a manner in their 
midst. 



Logan, Ohio, March 24, 1878. 

My Very Dear Brother in Christ : 

You will see by this that I am still in a tabernacle of sin, 
though it is much to the surprise of my friends and the disap- 
pointment of myself. My doctor says he feels as though I 
am one come back from the dead ; and I look very much like 
it, so pale and thin has my illness rendered me. I had a very 
bad attack in December last, and when I recovered the physi- 
cians advised me to go to a hospital, hoping by so doing I 



Letters 99 

might be relieved, if not cured. One of my brothers accom- 
panied me to Columbus on the first of January, and gave me 
in charge of the president of Starling Medical College, and 
the Lady Superior of St. Francis' Hospital, of that city. I 
only remained there five days. My disease was pronounced 
incurable,- and I was at once discharged. Medical men say I 
have an unusual amount of vitality, and may live and suffer 
a long while, but cannot get well. I hope and pray that the 
grace which has hitherto sustained me will still buoy me up, 
and enable me to wait patiently all the days of my appointed 
time until my change comes. The goodness of God to me 
has been wonderful indeed. Though so very ill, and suffering 
excruciating pain of body,T felt better in mind than I ever 
did in my life, and it seemed that I could almost see the 
heavenly Jerusalem, the city of the great King, and the 
heavenly host praising Him around the throne. It is sweet 
indeed to stand upon the shore, and by an eye of faith catch 
bright glimpses of the glorious city just beyond. In the 
twenty-first chapter of Revelation we have a beautiful and 
vivid description of the holy city. As I lay thinking of the 
golden city, of its jasper walls, of the precious stones, the 
gates of pearls, I thought how beautiful it all is ; and yet if 
God, the Alpha and Omega, the Bright and Morning Star, 
did not dwell in this beautiful city, what a poor place would 
it be to the child of God. If Jesus, our Redeemer and 
Saviour, were not there, how dull and lusterless would be the 
transparent gold of even this beautiful place. "And I saw no 
temple therein, for the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb 
are the temple of it." Ah ! this is what gladdens our hearts : 
the thought, the blessed thought, that Jesus is there, the 
glory and light of the place. 



ioo Reminiscences and Letters 

New Holland, O., Oct. 4, 1878. 

Mrs. Mattie S. Kaga. 

My Beloved Sister in the Lord: 

Your letters are both received, and the one bearing 
yesterday's date has just been read. Your sweet, sisterly devo- 
tion and Christian love are as surprising as they are comforting 
and soothing. I think my blessed Heavenly Father puts it 
into your heart, my dear sister, to feel thus concerned about 
me. Severely afflicted, and suffering untold agony of body 
and mind, a kind and gentle word from a loving heart is 
indeed a soothing balm to my aching and tempest-tossed 
mind. How aching and tempest-tossed my heart has been 
for some time no language could express. My afflictions 
never seemed so unbearable as they have of late, simply 
because I do not have that blessed assurance that underneath 
me are the everlasting arms. I seem to be without hope and 
without God in the world. In vain have I sought comfort in 
the word by prayer ; the face of my dear Redeemer is hidden 
behind the thick clouds that my sins have formed between me 
and His blessed and soul-cheering presence. And when will 
it be removed ? Will my blessed Saviour cast off forever ? 
" Will He be favorable no more ? " " O, that I knew where I 
might find Him," and " O, that I were as in months past," is 
the language continually of my heart. I said I seemed to be 
without hope ; but thanks to His holy name, so long as there 
is a promise on which to lay hold, no poor, helpless sinner 
need be without hope. * * * "This God is our God 
forever ; He will be our guide even unto death. ' ' O, the sweet- 
ness, the comfort, the strength that comes to us with such 
words. It illumes the soul with a rapturous gladness, a holy 
fervidness, a heavenly calmness that language cannot express. 
It contains voices more powerful than the ocean's roar. It 
bears music as soft and sweet as that the angels play upon 



Letters 101 

their harps of gold. It fills us with a light and warmth that 
surpass the glory of our midsummer's sun. When such 
promises flow in upon the soul, we feel that we are indeed 
being led beside the still waters, that we are come into the 
banqueting house, that we have entered the peaceful harbor, 
that we are held by the sure and steadfast anchor, and care 
not for the roaring billows or the raging storms without. 

But I fear I shall weary you. You will please accept 
this imperfect letter, written under great bodily pain, as a 
response to both of yours. Except my brief, frequent letters 
to Dr. Little, this is the first letter I have written for many 
months. My health is no better, and my sufferings are 
excruciating beyond description. The pleasant autumn days 
have come, and will soon be gone ; but the balmy air, the 
mellow, golden sunlight peculiar to this season of the year, 
have so far brought no tinge to my cheeks, or strength or 
vigor to my weakened frame. I am discouraged, and feel 
that 

" When a few more days are wasted, 

When a few more scenes are o'er, 
When a few more griefs are tasted, 
I shall fall to rise no more.'' 

I would like much to visit you, dear Mattie, but, unless I 
improve, it would be imprudent for me to attempt a journey 
of that length unaccompanied. I am very lonely, and if 
possible, do most ardently desire you to come here. 

Thanking you for your dear letters, and hoping to be 
remembered often in your prayers, 

I am, affectionately, your unworthy friend and sister, 

MARY PARKER. 



102 Reminiscences and Letters 

To Mr. Cornelius Myers, a very aged man living at Lock- 
town, N. J., now deceased. 

New Holland, Ohio, Aug. 9, 1882. 

Very Dear Brother in Christ : 

Your kind letter was duly received. Words would fail 
to express the pleasure I derived from its perusal. I have read 
it over and over again, and your extreme kindness and the 
many expressions of love and Christian fellowship are sweetly 
and indelibly impressed upon my heart. My dear, departed 
mother was a native of your state, and that would cause your 
letter to meet with a welcome if there was no other bond 
between us ; but while reading your precious letter, how my 
heart went out to you in Christian love, and I almost felt that 
you were here with me, a living presence, and that we were 
talking together face to face. What a blessed privilege I would 
esteem it could I see you and your aged companion, and listen 
to the sweet, old, old story of Jesus and His love. Methinks 
I should never tire of sitting at your feet, and quietly learn- 
ing of you. The society and companionship of the aged is 
always very pleasant to me, though but thirty-two myself. I 
feel little interest in the society of the young and giddy people 
of the world. Their conversation tires me, and their vain 
talk affords me no pleasure. You say, dear brother, that ery- 
sipelas is one of your troubles. I, too, am afflicted with Saint 
Anthony's fire, or rose erysipelas. My limbs fill with water 
until the skin bursts, and the water leaps out to the amount 
of a gallon every twenty-four hours. The water is poisonous, 
and causes erysipelas. They ulcerate and slough terribly, and 
it is very afflicting indeed. Do you know of anything that 
relieves it ? I have never found anything to relieve mine but 
cold water, which I use constantly. My dropsy is general, 
and since it attacked my body, over two years ago, I have not 
lain down night or day. I sit upright on a lounge, with my 



Letters 103 

feet upon a stool. Within the last month I have walked about 
my room on crutches, but it causes great pain and exhaustion. 
I wanted to answer your dear letter at once, but my limbs had 
quit discharging, and I was either in a stupor or in too great 
agony of pain to write. A few days ago one of them again 
bursted, and the discharge is sufficient to relieve both the 
stupor and the pain that precede it. I always find comfort 
when I think of Lazarus, of Job, and many others who endured 
a great fight of affliction. And O, it is such a sweet comfort 
to read or hear the dear children of God relate their trials 
and afflictions. Many are the afflictions of the righteous, 
but out of them all the Lord delivers them. Blessed be His 
name, His promises are sure ; and ere long I hope, dear 
brother, that He will come with power and great deliverance 
to each poor, trembling one, and give them beauty for ashes, 
the oil of joy for mourning, and the garment of praise for the 
spirit of heaviness. Happy, glorious exchange ! Then we 
shall realize that our light afflictions did work for us a far 
more exceeding and eternal weight of glory. 

I do hope you will write again to me. I certainly think 
the dear Lord put it into your heart to write to me, for I do 
assure you your letter is a very great comfort. Remember me 
in love to your dear wife. With much gratitude and Christian 
love, I am your sister in affliction, 

MARY PARKER. 



New Holland, Ohio, August 9, 1883. 

Mrs. Kate Swartout, 

My Dear Sister in the Blessed Saviour : 

Your most welcome and interesting letter was received 
a few days ago. I am very weak and stupid, both naturally 
and spiritually, and very illy fitted to write to a person like 
yourself, who is gifted in spiritual things ; but I want you to 



104 Reminiscences and Letters 

know that I appreciate your letter, and your kind motive in 
writing to a poor, weak worm, who, if I belong to the great 
Shepherd's little flock, am the very least and poorest of them 
all. It is very pleasant indeed to be held in kindly remem- 
brance by our dear kindred in Christ, and to receive letters 
or visits from the brethren and sisters is the greatest earthly 
joy that comes to me amid my affliction and pain and dark- 
ness of mind. I am so glad that you described your affliction 
to me. It is a comfort to know that I am not walking alone 
in this troubled way, but that others are chosen in the furnace 
of affliction as well as myself. I can sympathize with you in 
your disappointment. When you are brought to the very 
gates of death, and feel that the peace which floweth like a 
river, and the sweet rest that is found only beyond the grave, 
shall soon be yours to enjoy for evermore, then to feel one's 
self slowly coming back to life and strength, to be obliged to 
mingle with the world and engage in worldly things, oh ! is 
it not disappointment indeed ? How often has this been the 
case with myself? How often have I been almost down in 
the valley of the shadow of death, and when I found myself 
obliged to turn back, how great was my bitterness ! But, my 
dear sister, I think I was taught a useful lesson last winter, 
when at one time my friends and physician all thought me to 
be dying. All my natural senses seemed to be leaving me, 
and I felt like one just hanging upon the brink of another 
world ; but though I had no fear, and all looked bright and 
shining on the other shore, yet Jesus seemed not yet ready 
to call me home. He seemed to make me feel that I must 
stay here yet awhile for His dear sake, because He willed it 
so ; and I witnessed the life and strength slowly returning to 
me with a calmer degree of trustful resignation to His divine 
will than ever before, and I think I have ever since been able 
to feel and say," All the days of my appointed time will I wait 
till my change come." How thankful I have ever since felt for 



Letters 105 

this lesson, and how glad to be made willing to suffer trial, 
sorrow and affliction for His dear sake, if it is through this 
terrible darkness that I am to be purified before I reach the 
land of eternal light and glory. "By terrible things in 
righteousness wilt thou answer us, O God of our salvation." 
We pray for grace, we long for holiness, we hunger and thirst 
after righteousness, we long for an answer to our prayers ; but 
oh ! how differently comes the answer from what we expected. 
Instead of worldly prosperity there often comes poverty • in 
the place of the longed-for ease and earthly happiness and 
great self-complacency, there come great tribulation and 
darkness of mind ; and when " by terrible things in righteous- 
ness " He answers our prayers, He breaks our teeth with*gravel 
stones, and gives us a stone for a pillow, instead of one of 
softest down. We are often surprised that our prayers are 
thus answered, and we exclaim, as did Jacob, "All these 
things are against me ;" forgetting the while that He will try 
us as gold is tried, and that in the furnace of affliction He has 
chosen us. Dear sister, our affliction is hard for us to bear, 
for " no chastening for the present seemeth to be joyous, but 
grievous;" but do we not sometimes sweetly realize that it 
yieldeth even to us the " peaceable fruit of righteousness ?" 
Is it not one of the terrible things by which He answers us, 
as well as among the all things which work together for our 
good ? Through all our afflictions, our headaches, our heart- 
aches, the awful sense of indwelling corruption and sin, shall 
not His grace be sufficient for us? Looking away beyond 
these things to the sufferings, the agony, the groans of the 
dear Saviour, who in all our affliction is afflicted, and who by 
His death brought salvation unto us, can we not find grace 
and comfort and help in every time of need? Oh, what a 
blessed Saviour He is to us, and how blessed we are through 
Him. What need we have to praise and adore one who has 
done such wonders for us. 



106 Remi?iiscences and Letters 

You quote this passage in your dear letter: "Be thou 
faithful unto death," and very truly say, " There is no promise 
of rest here." But, my dear sister, in the promise that He 
will be with us even unto death, do we not find a great harbor 
of safety? And to those who look for new heavens and a 
new earth, if there is not rest, there is sweetness in the look- 
ing forward to the time when we can enjoy that perfect rest 
found only beyond the grave. The goodness of God is over 
all and extendeth to all, and to each one of us He metes out 
the proper portion and needful share of gifts. You, my dear 
sister, who are deprived of health, are blessed with a won- 
derful gift to expound the Scriptures, and comfort the tried 
little ones throughout the length and breadth of the land. 
Another may be void of the this gift, but may be gifted or 
blessed in another way, so that they may be useful in the 
Lord's vineyard ; so that whether we live or die, we are the 
Lord's ; and whether we have long life, or are early taken 
away, it is according to His will and goodness and love. 

I have not been able to stand on my feet for a year ; but 
with the exception of two hard attacks, which prostrated 
me entirely for a week, I have been freer from intense pain of 
late than at any other length of time since I took dropsy. It 
is a terrible disease, when, as in my case, the limbs burst, and 
erysipelas follows. Like any other disease that weakens and 
debilitates the body, it weakens the mind, and I am often like 
you, mentally depressed and filled with gloomy forebodings ; 
but we must be patient. Ere long we, with all our troubles, 
shall pass away, and if not deceived, shall have beauty for 
ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garments of praise for 
the spirit of heaviness. "There shall be no more death, 
neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more 
pain: for the former things are passed away." O shall not 
the glorified spirit, just awakened in the likeness of the 
blessed Redeemer, shout glad hosannas to Him who is Lord 
of lords and King of kings ? MARY PARKER. 



Letters 107 

The following is from a letter to Mrs. Neffie Biggs, of 
Williamston, N. C, who was herself a helpless invalid, and a 
remarkable example of patience under affliction, and of 
spiritual-mindedness. She was released from her sufferings 
four years ago. The letter is dated at 

New Holland, O., May, 1885. 

No, dear sister, I have no hope whatever of ever being 
restored. Every remedy I have tried has proved of no avail, 
and I am thoroughly sickened with them all. If God sees fit 
to restore me, I know He has power to do it. I pray, O, so 
earnestly, if it be His will, to restore me ; if not, to make me 
submissive. And sometimes, after He has shown me great and 
sore troubles, He fills me with such an overwhelming sense of 
His shining presence, my heart is so filled with His love that I 
feel I would not change my lot with the most prosperous and 
healthy. Out of the depths of human suffering and woe, I am 
lifted up to the shining mount of His infinite love. Oh ! at such 
moments can we not almost hear the sound of angels' wings, 
and feel ourselves enveloped in the shining light that shines 
unto perfect day in the heavenly courts? In times of dark- 
ness and doubt, Heaven seems so vague, a something so very 
far off as almost not to exist at all ; and a living, feeling, per- 
sonal interest in and knowledge of Christ seems a thing almost 
impossible to our cold hearts. But in those seasons of light 
and spiritual warmth, when we have precious love visits from 
on high, how clear and real and rich and enjoyable it all is. 
Why, Heaven is right here, just in our poor hearts, and even 
the gloomy sick room becomes almost a hallowed spot, a 
place where we feel we must take the shoes from off our feet, 
for we tread upon holy ground. Paul says that our light 
afflictions work for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight 
of glory. Then, dear sister, can we not bear them yet a little 
while, until we are led to the borders of that land where 



108 Reminiscences and Letters 

sorrow cannot come, and where God shall wipe all tears from 
our eyes ? Over how many stony and slippery places, through 
how many a thorny path, hath our tender Shepherd helped us ? 
And as we sweetly realize how securely we have rested in the 
everlasting arms, let us still lift up our eyes unto the hills from 
whence cometh our help, and quietly wait the final coming of 
our Lord, crowned with glory, immortality and life everlasting. 
Having the same sweet hope, knit together by the silken 
thread of Christ's love, our common affliction brings us 
together, dear sister, in a very close companionship, and gives 
us, as it were, a double portion of Christian fellowship and love. 
O, may God visit you, and all His afflicted and tried ones, 
often, with the joys of His salvation. 

I have written this in great pain, and amid many inter- 
ruptions. Could you see me, sister, you would be filled with 
wonder indeed, so distorted and swollen are my limbs, so 
enlarged my body, and so pallid my countenance. But I feel a 
delicacy always when I attempt a description of my condition, 
lest I may be supposed to overdraw the picture. 

In much tribulation, your sister in hope, 

MARY PARKER. 



From a letter published in the Signs, and republished in 
"Collection of Gems," dated 

December 15, 1885. 

Blessed indeed are the inhabitants of that fair world ; and 
blessed, thrice blessed, are the dead who die in the Lord. 

So, my dear aunt who one year ago left your comfortable 
home in Ohio to join your only son in the far -West, and who 
but lately, with breaking heart, saw his noble form laid in the 
grave to rest, you "sorrow not as they who have no hope." 
Your darling boy is not dead, but only fallen asleep, to awake 
in the image and likeness of the dear Saviour. Seven years 



Letters 109 

ago this same dear boy, then a child of not over twelve, was 
made to see himself a helpless sinner. His dear father at the 
time lay a corpse, and the child would moan aloud that his 
sins, his cruel sins, had separated him forever from his father 
and from Jesus. A day and a night the child's state of mind 
was pitiful to witness; but on the evening of the second day 
the load was suddenly removed, and he was made to rejoice 
with joy unspeakable. It was wonderful with what wisdom and 
clearness he spoke of the Saviour's pardoning mercy and love, 
and how plainly the plan of salvation by grace alone was 
revealed to him. Has not his bereaved mother just cause to 
believe that he is now enjoying the fruition of the hope given 
him at that time, and that he did in very deed "die in the 
Lord? " Our dear sister has been called on to pass through 
deep waters of affliction, and she now feels that all the waves 
and billows have gone over her. She first stood by the death- 
bed of the husband of her early love and youth ; then she 
buried two lovely children ; next came the death of her last 
husband, the late Albert Parker ; and now her dear Frank, 
who was just entering upon a noble, promising manhood, her 
only earthly support and reliance, has been called to join the 
happy throng above. But when the last earthly prop is gone 
and the dearest tie is broken, we are brought to cling more 
closely to Christ, and to rest more steadfastly in His blessed 
promises. 

I have learned by bitter experience that it is when the 
heart tendrils are bruised and broken that Jesus comes near, and 
we are brought into a closer union and communion with Him, 
and come into a closer fellowship with His sufferings, and it is 
then that "with His stripes we are healed." Let the bereaved, 
the sorrowing and suffering ones be comforted. Jesus is nigh 
unto those of a broken heart ; "a broken and a contrite spirit 
He will not despise." " They that sow in tears shall reap in 
joy ; " and though sorrow endure for a season, yet joy cometh 



no Reminiscences and Letters 

in the morning. Darkest hours are just before the dawn of 
morning ; and when the morning of effulgent day bursts upon 
us, and the Sun of righteousness arises with its healing wings, 
suffering and sorrow will be forgotten, and weeping give place 
to joy and singing. When Jesus walks on the tempestuous 
waves and cries, " Peace, be still," how grateful is the calm. 
We can almost touch the hem of His garment, so near does He 
come to us, and great floods of love flow into the heart, and we 
marvel that we ever doubted or feared, when He has told us 
that He would ever care for us ; and when the last night for 
us is past, and we enter upon that final and glorious immortal 
dawn, to be united to our dear ones, never again to part, never 
more to sin or grieve or know distress, how blessed we will find 
it to be to " die in the Lord," and what glory and immortal 
light shall fill the soul, and with what gladness shall we sing the 
song and hear the soft, sweet music of redeeming love. We 
will then be in possession of that perfect love which casteth 
out fear, and realize in all its power and sweetness that " God 
is love." 



The following letter was published in the Signs, and 
republished in " Collection of Gems : " 

" But the sorrow of the world worketh death." — 2 Cor. vii : 10. 

My correspondents, who are inexpressibly dear to me, no 
doubt wonder at my long silence. The above passage of 
Scripture expresses a part of the cause of my inability to 
write, infinitely better than any expression of my own I could 
make. True, my continuous suffering of body, my frequent 
delirium from fever and chills, and the weakness and debility 
that naturally follow, are a very good excuse ; but had not my 
mind been surfeited with worldly sorrow, with human wrong 
and earthly care, the love that so often reaches out to the 
Lord's dear children throughout the land would have sur- 
mounted even this obstacle. Oh ! I wonder if the dear, 



Letters 



in 






strong, valiant Paul ever felt the truth of this expression — if 
the force and fullness of it ever came to him through his own 
personal experience as it has to me. Often and often have I 
read this Scripture, but never did its full meaning strike me 
as it has during the past several months. I have sometimes 
thought, since affliction has cut me off from the world, that 
its sorrows and its joys could no longer affect me, that I was 
dead alike to the allurements, the snares and the temptations 
of them both ; but alas ! alas ! how mistaken were my con- 
clusions. Surely there is no place, no condition, in this life 
whatever where the child of God is free from snares, from 
temptation and sin \ no place under the natural sun where 
Satan cannot be at you, after you, to torment and entrap you 
with his wicked devices. One says very truly, "If Christ is 
near you, Satan will be near you too; and if he cannot entrap 
you in one way, he will in another." 

While the pressure of worldly trouble has at times, as 
I think, driven me oftener and nearer to the dear Saviour's 
feet, and has shown me my helplessness and utter dependence 
on Him more forcibly, it has also filled my mind with sorrow 
of a worldly sort, with anguish and bitterness, and caused me 
to moan, to writhe and to cry out against the wrongs that 
have been brought to bear against me ; and truly, most truly 
and sadly, has it worked death to my spiritual growth and 
enjoyment, so that when I would feel a desire to write to my 
spiritual kindred I could not fix my mind upon spiritual 
things, nor still the tumultuous throbbing of my overburdened 
heart long enough to write upon the things dearest to the 
Christian's heart. Oh ! how I am made to deplore the weakness, 
the fleshly weakness, that has caused me to fall so deeply into 
the snare and temptation of worldly sorrow, so that often my 
reason seemed to give way, and the afflictions of body and 
mind threatened me. No words can express the awful dark- 
ness, the sorrow and despair, that I have struggled against, 



ii2 Reminiscences and Letters 

and how deep and dark have been the waters I have passed 
through to learn this bitter lesson, that " The sorrow of the 
world worketh death." When sunk so low in these dreary- 
waters, how fiery have been the darts that Satan has hurled at 
my soul ; what devices he has used, and with what force has 
he brought human reason to argue against the longings of my 
soul after God ; and how hard has he tried to break down the 
stronghold of my hope and faith and trust in the living and 
glorified Redeemer. How hard it is to thus bear the cruel 
thrusts of Satan, when darkness envelops us on every side. 
"A wounded spirit, who can bear?" How, indeed, can the 
trembling child of God bear the aching of a broken spirit, 
unless he be strengthened and sustained by mighty, reigning 
grace? But if through grace we can say, " Get thee behind 
me Satan !" and, '-'Though He slay me, yet will I trust in 
Him," then indeed may we account the victory ours. 

How kindly and full of meaning came the words of the 
blessed Saviour to His disciples, "Watch and pray, lest ye 
enter into temptation." " The spirit indeed is willing, but the 
flesh is weak. ' ' How very good and wonderful seems His tender 
admonition, and how careful His vigilant watch-care. Oh ! how 
sweetly is His forgiving and compassionate nature brought to 
view in the tender excuse He makes for us, "The spirit 
indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak." If I am one of the 
favored number of the great Shepherd's " little flock," I can 
scarce believe there is one member whose flesh is so weak as 
mine, who is so prone to fall into by and forbidden paths, who 
so easily gives way to temptation, or who gives way so utter- 
ly to the sorrow of the world and fleshly weakness. Yet it 
strengthens even me when I think that Jesus knows the flesh 
is weak, and that having been " tempted in all things like as 
we are," He knows how to succor us when we are tempted. 

"He leadeth me." Ah! who is it that leadeth me? 
Can it be Jesus, dear Jesus, that is leading me, weighted 



Letters 113 

down with worldly sorrow, sick with a sense of sin ? He says 
He leadeth them into green pastures, besides the still waters ; 
but can it be He that is leading me through these deep waters, 
through this fiery way? O bless His holy name, it is still the 
same dear hand that leadeth me; for does He not say, 
" When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; 
and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee : when 
thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned." — 
Isaiah xliii : 2. So that whether we are gliding sweetly upon 
a bright, clear sea, made glorious by the sunshine of righteous- 
ness, fragrant with the sweet incense of pardoning love, look- 
ing out upon scenes of green pastures, surrounded by clear, 
still waters, or whether we are tossed upon a dark, dark sea, 
sailing beneath a clouded sky, with no feeling sense of love, 
it is still Jesus that leadeth us ; and not until the last sea is 
crossed, the last bitter draught drunk, the last storm-tossed 
billow passed, and the wondrous journey of life is done, can 
we triumph fully over all, and shout, Grace, free, atoning, 
redeeming grace. Jesus says we shall (in the world) have 
tribulation ; and He further says that His word shall all be ful- 
filled. Then trouble must come to the child of God in some 
form or other. The wicked, David says, are not troubled as 
other men ; and do we not find it true ? Even the worldly 
religionists have no such trouble as Paul and his fellow- disci- 
ples, who were troubled on every side, and had fightings 
without and fears within. 

I heard of a minister in this village a few evenings since 
taking for his text this Scripture, " But he himself went a day's 
journey into the wilderness, and came and sat down under a 
juniper tree : and he requested for himself that he might die ; 
and said, it is enough ; now, O Lord, take away my life." — 
1 Kings, xix : 4. The poor, tried, tempest-tossed child 0/ 
God, methinks, can plainly trace his own travail of soul and 
experience in the hardships and trials and vexations of spirit 



H4 Reminiscences and Letters 

through which the great man of God had been passing, and 
has often, no doubt, said like Elijah, "It is enough ; now, 
O Lord, take away my life." But the minister above alluded 
to gave this Scripture a literal application, and said that 
Elijah had a fit of the "blues," or possibly a " bad liver." 
It appears to my limited understanding that the prophet was 
experiencing the same trial and bitterness of soul that Job 
and other godly persons did ; and that the Christian must 
suffer in this world, is verified by the self-sacrificing, sorrowful 
life of Jesus, who went mourning all his days, and who was 
" a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. " The life and 
experience of the prophet Elijah has been sweetly comforting 
to me during the past months. The deprivations he suffered, 
the straits he was brought into, and the marvelous and striking 
manner in which God cared for him, showing that His little 
ones are indeed of more value in his sight than many spar- 
rows, is such a comfort and strength to me. Again, when he 
was brought so low that he wished to die, alone in the wilder- 
ness, fleeing from a wicked adversary, how good and gentle 
and compassionate was our dear Lord, when He sent an angel 
not only to touch him, to arouse him from sleep, but to feed 
his famished soul, to strengthen his weary, fainting body, so 
that he went forty days on the strength of that food. How 
often the child of God goes to sleep when under great worldly 
trial. How sweet it is then to be touched or awakened by 
the Spirit, who gives us food, and soothes and comforts us as 
one whom the Father comforteth. After a long spiritual fast 
or hunger, weary with our journey, wishing the last scene 
were over, how strengthening is that food from above, the 
manna from heaven, the precious gospel truth, which so 
strengthens the soul, and refreshes and buoys us up for many 
long days. O the blessedness of that food, of which, if a man 
eat, he shall never perish, but shall have everlasting life ; 
and the efficacy of that water, of which, if we drink, we shall 



Letters 115 

thirst no more. O that I could be fed more freely with that 
wondrous bread ; that I could drink more freely from that 
glorious fountain, whose pure crystal waters alone can satisfy 
one's spiritual thirst; that I could come nearer and nearer 
to the great throne of grace, where even such poor creatures 
as I can find rest and help in all their sorrow and need. 

"But the sorrow of the world worketh death." With 
what shame and self-reproach do I confess to you, my dear 
kindred in Christ, that I have often allowed the sorrow of the 
world, or the state of my financial affairs, to take up my 
thoughts almost entirely ; and often, very often, have I cried 
out within myself, O thou of little faith ! Under this deplora- 
ble state of mind I could not write to those I dearly love, and 
whose correspondence I so much prize- Dear friends, do not, 
I beg you, feel slighted or neglected. I feel that my letters, 
under circumstances the most favorable, could do no one 
good ; and when I do write, my words seem so like the 
wrung out accents of a sorely-tried heart, are so like a tale of 
sorrow always, that I fear to annoy and trouble the dear 
household, rather than comfort and build them up in the 
faith. To each and all who have honored and comforted me 
by letters of comfort and christian love, I send special love, 
craving an interest in your prayers, and sometimes a place in 
your thoughts. To you, dear Elder William Beebe, I send 
warmest thanks, for the ever-treasured expressions of Christian 
love I had from you through a private letter to Sister Cordie 
Yeoman. May the dear Lord abundantly bless and strengthen 
you, and all the dear household of faith, for His dear name's 
sake, to whom be glory and honor and power and majesty 
now and forevermore. 

With feelings of warmest christian fellowship and love, I 
am your unworthy sister in deep affliction, 

MARY PARKER. 

New Holland, Ohio. 



1 1 6 Reminiscences and Letters 

The following was published in the Primitive Monitor, 
of February 15, 1887, and re-published in " Collection of 
Gems." 

New Holland, Ohio, January 16, 1887. 

Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear 
Him. — Psalm ciii : 13. 

Only a few years ago, I was the petted, beloved child of 
most affectionate, tender, and goldly parents ; but they have 
left me here in a cold world, and gone, as I hope and believe, 
to the mansions of eternal glory. Much has been written and 
said concerning a mother's love, but to me my mother's love was 
no sweeter, no more tender, no more pitiful and pure, than was 
the love of my almost idolized father. Amid the loneliness, 
the sorrows and afflictions, the many vicissitudes of my troub- 
lous journey of life, how I have longed for his wise counsel, his 
tender love and care. How I would prize one more pressure 
of the dear hand, one kind look of the eye, one more sound 
of the familiar voice ; but all, all are gone, never more to 
return. Then how soothing came to me these blessed words, 
" Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them 
that fear Him." Like precious love-tokens from a dearly 
loved friend, they flow into the heart, bringing the sweet 
incense of God's love, wafting sweet perfume, arousing the 
sweetest music in the heart, causing it to throb and vibrate, 
and, in flute-like tones, to send forth the music of redeeming 
love, as though some wondrous instrument had its golden 
chords touched by a master-hand. Having once known the 
tenderness and inestimable value of a dear father's love, one 
is better qualified to testify to the goodness and sweetness of 
that infinite love, which, though it is compared to the love of 
an earthly parent, yet is as incomparable with human love, 
and as much greater and higher, as His thoughts are higher 
than human thoughts. Dearly as we love our friends, deep 



Letters 117 

and fervent as our affection is, it sinks into insignificance 
when compared with that love which has no beginning and no 
ending, but is from everlasting to everlasting, world without 
end. 

Oh ! how good and tender does the dear Lord's pity to 
me seem. Without earthly parents, smitten, lonely and 
afflicted, His tender love comes to me amid the gloom of it 
all ; amid worldly sorrow and spiritual doubt and darkness, 
when weary with bodily and mental pain, unable to sleep dur- 
ing dreary nights, His tender pity and love flow like glad sun- 
beams into my heart, dispelling the gloom and quieting all 
murmuring and unrest. " Like as a father pitieth his children, 
so the Lord pitieth them that fear Him." " For Heknoweth 
our frame ; He remembereth that we are dust." Could any 
words be more expressive of tenderness, more indicative of 
the fullness of His great love ? He knows our frame, knows 
all our human weakness, our proneness to err, our deceitful- 
ness and sin, our liability to stray from His dear fold, from the 
bosom of His dear love ; yet He remembereth that we are 
dust. He knows that we have no righteousness, no holy 
attributes, but are poor, finite creatures, unrighteous and 
unholy. Hence, remembering it all, in infinite love He pities 
us; in infinite mercy He redeems us; and He loves, pities, 
and cares for us from everlasting to everlasting. What poor 
creatures we are in His sight ! Why should man, at his best 
state, find within himself anything to boast of? "As for man, 
his days are as grass. As a flower of the field, so he flour- 
isheth. For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone, and the 
place thereof shall know it no more." God is no respecter 
of persons : the handsomest, the noblest, the wisest, the most 
intellectual, are but dust in His sight ; and unto dust must 
their bodies return. The proudest that tread the earth must 
lie low with the most lowly. "As for man, his days are as 
grass." This shows how frail, how fleeting is human life. 



1 1 8 Reminiscences and Letters 

" Swift as the the weaver's shuttle speed our years." Days 
soon glide into months, months into years ; and ere we are 
aware, old age steals upon us, and we have passed our three- 
score years and ten. We find the grass is withered, and 
the flowers of our life have fallen away. We pass beyond 
the still, silent river, and the places that once knew us shall 
know us no more again forever. Seeing then how quickly 
the pulsations of our being must be slackened and stopped, 
how soon the frail life-cord must be snapped asunder ; real- 
izing that we "here have.no continuing city," let us not 
spend our time in laying up treasure here, that the moth and 
rust may corrupt ; but let us strive to be rich toward God. 
Then we shall have no need to fear to cross Jordan's cold 
stream ; for a tender Father's love has secured a safe passage 
for us, and provided a glorious landing, a magnificent and 
blessed haven of rest beyond the river ; where the saints 
walk the gold-paved streets, clothed in white, and the glory 
of God and the Lamb illume the place, and glad hallelujahs 
are sung in sweet and never-ending strains. "Like as a 
father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that 
fear Him." 

O, how wonderful ! that God, in all His wondrous attri- 
butes — His wisdom, holiness, infinity, omnipotence and omni- 
presence — is it not wonderful, indeed, that He, like a tender 
parent, can look upon poor, vile creatures, such as we, with 
infinite pity and love? Is it not enough to cause our poor 
hearts to swell? to make us fall at his feet and, whilst we 
wonder and adore, cry, "Unholy, unholy, and unclean?" 
" Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them 
that fear Him." Dear kindred in Christ, we have but lately 
entered upon a new, untried year. The old year, with its joys 
and sorrows, its burdens and cares, has been cut off, as the 
grass, as the flower of the field The future stretches before us, 
a veiled vista, which, try. as we may, we can not see into. We 



Letters 119 

know not how many, and what, may be the vicissitudes of 
another year; yet, whatever of human joy or misery and woe 
it may bring to us, let us put our trust in the Father's love; 
let us remember that He does not afflict willingly, that He is 
very pitiful and of tender mercy, and that "Like as a father 
pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear Him." 
O ! that the sweet, tender pity of God's love may sweetly flow 
into each of our hearts, making us also pitiful to one another, 
causing us to cheerfully help to bear one another's burdens, 
quieting each murmuring thought, warming our affections, and 
bringing the peace of God, which passeth understanding, to 
our poor hearts, filling us with gratitude and thankfulness to 
the great Giver of all good. This is the first time I have 
attempted to step within the precints of the pages of the Monitor, 
but the kind editor having done me the honor to ask me to write 
something for its pages, I felt to make the attempt. But I can do 
nothing, say nothing, to honor and glorify the name of Jesus, 
only as His blessed Spirit may lead me. It is long years since I 
sat under the sound of the gospel, and heard the watchman tell 
the good news of glad tidings to the poor, hence I am very 
ignorant concerning the blessed gospel truths, and can only 
speak and write upon what I trust I experience personally 
whilst being led in a way I know not, in paths I had not 
known. Truly it is a wonderful way ! O, may the joy of 
God's salvation be restored to each of our cold, back-sliding 
hearts ! Let us rejoice, that unto us a blessed Saviour is born, 
" which is Christ the Lord." One that remembereth we are 
dust; and, "Like as a father pitieth his children," so our 
Lord pitieth us in our weakness, temptations, short-comings 
and fears, and enables us to lift up the hands that hang down, 
and causes us to " mount up with wings as eagles, to run and 
not be weary, to walk and not faint." 

In Christian love, yours very truly, 

MARY PARKER, 



1 20 Reminiscences and Letters 



[Extracts from letters to Mrs. Alma F. McNaughten.] 

In these extracts from letters written to a very intimate 
friend, the condition of our afflicted sister, physically, men- 
tally, socially and spiritually, is made more clearly apparent, 
perhaps, than elsewhere in the book. In the intercourse 
between two where such sacred intimacy exists, there is per- 
fect freedom, without the constraint that necessarily must be 
caused in some degree by the thought that others, perhaps 
many, will read what is written. In reading these extracts we 
come from day to day into the sick room for a little time, as 
one of the family. We hear the heavy breathing and half- 
suppressed groans of the sufferer ; we see the look of pain 
and the expression of patient endurance ; we hear the cries 
that the unbearable anguish wrings from the poor heart and 
trembling lips, as the crying of a child, and see the strength 
of a woman put forth in vain endeavors to hush the sobs. 
We see in these extracts the changes from day to-day, appear- 
ing in the variety of expression, as the mood is now dark, 
lonely, desponding, and again joyous, exultant. To-day she 
appears full of soul-troubles, as well as bodily pain and mental 
anguish, and is ready to count herself forsaken, friendless; 
to-morrow her face looks up at us from her couch radiant with 
joy and peace, and she is ready to sing for gladness of heart, 
because her dear Saviour has appeared to her soul, saying : 
" Peace be unto you ; " and His presence has driven darkness 
from the soul and trouble from the mind, and has hushed even 
the throbs of pain in the poor, suffering body. These changes 
can only be understood in such measure as we have felt them 
ourselves. Few have known them in such a degree as not 
to stand amazed at what is measured out to her both of 
suffering and of gladness. To those whose own experience 



Letters 121 

has prepared them in any degree to understand and sympa- 
thize with these heart breathings, it will not be necessary to 
make any apology for this apparent intrusion upon the sacred 
privacy of a sick room, with its pains and various suffering, its 
cries and groans. The sick room of a child of God is, indeed, 
a sacred place ; but no more so than the church. The 
entrance there of dear kindred in Christ is no intrusion, but 
often full of soothing power and comfort to the sick one, and 
of divine blessing to themselves, as many will find, while, in 
reading these pages, they have come into this pleasant room, 
in which the delivering power of Jesus and His sustaining 
grace have so often been richly displayed, and where songs of 
praise so often arise to His dear and blessed name. 

On account of the great abundance of material much 
has had to be omitted from the letters, in making this book, 
which is just as good as what is published, in order that some 
of all that has been sent us may appear, and the book not be 
too large. This will account to any one for what they may 
miss in letters received by them. We have tried to omit no 
sentiment that does not elsewhere appear. In reference to 
the omission of what was said in the confidence of personal 
friendship, but which would not be appropriate in a book, our 
dear, clear-minded sister has given judicious direction. It 
will be understood by all that some of the causes of deepest 
trial and affliction are such as cannot publicly appear, as is the 
case with all. 

We have not counted acknowledgments of personal 
favor, and expressions of personal gratitude, as among the 
things to be suppressed. Without them our kind-hearted, 
humble, grateful sister would not be truly known in her letters. 

S. H. D. 



122 Reminiscences and Letters 

New Holland, O., Dec. i, 1887. 

Beloved Sister : 

I began a letter to you yesterday, but was so ill I could 
not write ; and oh ! I have been so lonely, and my heart has 
yearned so for my own loved and peculiar people. Shut in, 
and out, as I am by my affliction from them, unable oft times to 
hold even a pen intercourse with them, I fear they will event- 
ually drop me and forget my painful existence. Job says, 
"To him that is afflicted pity should be shewed from his 
friend ; " and I do crave the pity and sympathy of my friends 
in Christ. Yet if Jesus, the blessed comforter, be with me I 
ought not to complain. Though unloved, unlovely and for- 
gotten, as I sometimes feel myself to be, how can I murmur if 
Jesus, the compassionate Saviour, the tender Father, be with 
me ? Oh ! how T long to be with those who, veiling their 
faces with their angel wings, cry " Holy, holy, is the Lord of 
hosts ! " How I long, indeed, to be with Him, to see as I 
am seen, to know as I am known. 

I have passed through an unusual season of bitterness and 
trial of late. There seem to come times in our lives when 
chilling east winds blow upon us, when many things conspire 
together to add to our unhappiness. Though of sinners I 
truly feel that I am chief, so that I am often constrained to 
utter the poor publican's prayer, yet I do feel greatly to thank 
the dear Redeemer that I have been kept through faith, and by 
the power of God, to hold fast to the blessed doctrine of God, 
our Saviour, and that I have no confidence in the flesh. Oh ! 
how I long to see you, dear Sister Frankie, and converse with 
you upon the theme we both so love to dwell upon, the blessed 
theme of salvation by grace. I picture you now in mind, the 
beloved center of your little family group. How different my 
painful, shut-in-life from yours ; yet the same tender hand 
fills both of our cups, and in infinite wisdom and love has 



Letters 123 

directed our footsteps. How truly does He say in His word, 
"It is not in man that walketh to direct his steps." It is a 
sweet comfort to me to think how strong has grown our mutual 
love, and how the dear love of God, as we trust, dropped like 
sweet-scented dewdrops into each of our hearts, has strength- 
ened our love and fellowship for each other. But I cannot 
write more. My limb is so painfully swollen, and I jerk so, I 
can scarcely write at all. Remember me in love to all. 
Your loving sister, 

MARY. 



December 25, 1887. 
Dear Sister Frankie : 

This is Christmas morning. Often and often do I wonder 
if indeed this is the anniversary of that glorious morning when 
the very stars sang together for joy because of the birth of the 
blessed Christ-child, whose coming into this world of sin 
betokened " peace on earth and good will toward man," who 
brought glad tidings to the poor, and whose own arm brought 
salvation to His beloved and chosen people. At any rate, I 
always feel that this day, above all others, if kept at all, should 
be one of solemn but glad thanksgiving. Jesus never told us 
to observe any such day ; but He has told us to eat the Lord's 
supper, and that when we " eat the bread and drink the 
wine," we are to do so in remembrance of Him: that the 
bread is an emblem of His body, the wine of His blood, His 
precious blood, shed for the remission of our sins. Whenever 
I was permitted to sit at the communion table it was ever a 
time of great and touching solemnity to me; and the last time 
I had this privilege with the dear saints was at Waterloo. 
Dear father presided ; his remarks were so touching, and I 
was so overcome, that it was difficult for me to keep from 
sobbing aloud. 



124 Reminiscences and Letters 

O, Frankie, I am so thankful, so very grateful both to 
you and to the ever-tender, gracious Father, that I have 
already received the much-needed help from the sale of my 
poor little book. May God bless it to the comfort of some 
poor tempted and tried ones, if there is anything in it to 
comfort. It has already been a great blessing to me finan- 
cially. Dear sister, I am in too great pain to write, was very 
bad all night. I think I am going into one of those awful chills 
that leave me in such stupor. Pray for me. 

Your sister in hope, 

MARY. 



January, 1888. 
Precious Sister Frankie : 

If I had been purposely silent the past month my con- 
science Would have hurt me terribly. When your letter and 
box came I had just had a severe chill. Then three large 
carbuncles formed on my worst limb, just where it rests against 
the side of my lounge. The great pain caused fever and delir- 
ium, and the dropsical swelling became immense. Chill after 
chill came on, followed by intense fever and burning of the 
limb. If I fell into a doze I fell off the lounge, caused by the 
constant jerking whether awake or dozing. I am grieved that 
you were so anxious about me, and you have my heartfelt 
thanks for your kindness and love ; but I am now too weak 
and full of awful pain to write intelligently. Frankie, are the 
brethren and friends satisfied or comforted by my imperfect 
writings ? Tell me what they do say, or how they feel about 
it. I cannot see one thing in my poor letters that I think 
would bring honor to the name of the ever-blest Redeemer. 

5JC 5j> 5JC *fZ ?jC 5|C *jZ 5JC ?f£ 



Letters 125 

Dear Frankie, again I became too ill to finish my letter 
begun nearly a week ago, I have been in a half stupor all of 
the time, caused by the quantity of water about my heart; and 
oh ! how I do suffer. But oh ! the goodness and mercy of 
God; how very wonderful it seems when I realize how tenderly 
He cares for me and provides. In warmest gratitude and love 
to you and yours, I am affectionately yours, 

MARY PARKER. 



March, 1888. 

My Dear Sister and Friend : 

I mailed a business note to you this morning, but your 
dear, soothing letter having reached me since, I feel that I 
must reply, although I am in great pain. 

Your tender words were as quieting, as soothing as the 
sweet lullabys of a loving mother to a poor sick child. Oh ! 
how rich and great are the blessings my precious Saviour sends 
me, and none seem sweeter than your untiring devotion and 
affection. My mind has been so surrounded by dense dark- 
ness and gloom for some time I could see nothing but imper- 
fections and sin in everything connected with myself, and 
amid my conflicts the mole-hills became frightful and threat- 
ening mountains. I became afraid those who read my book 
would think my sole motive in publishing it was to raise 
funds, and should it contain any merit of a spiritual nature, 
that would be lost and covered up by the one wretched idea. 
Forgive me that this letter is such a failure. I was lately in a 
chill for ten hours. 

In deep affliction, your devoted 

MARY. 



126 Reminiscences and Letters 

June, 1888. 

My Dear Sister Frankie : 

I could not write last week, being too ill to hold up my 
head. The refreshing rain and cool breeze have strength- 
ened me somewhat. The hot, dry weather of the past few 
weeks caused me to become very low in strength, and brought 
on frequent vomiting and distress. I have not been getting 
many letters of late, as I have been so long a time unable to 
send any. I have been greatly burdened and in much spirit- 
ual darkness, and, as is usual at such times, I feel friendless, 
most unlovely and unloved ; yet I know the dear Saviour is 
just the same, that His tender mercy is new to me every 
morning, and that His love is forever round about His chil- 
dren as the distilling dew. O, Frankie, you cannot know how 
your love and kindness humble me, and how unworthy and 
sinful I feel, and can but weep and cry, " Oh, my leanness, 
my leanness !" 

You ask me about myself. The accumulation of water 
in my body and limbs has greatly and rapidly increased ; my 
chills are more frequent, as well as more severe, and I have 
had rheumatism in my arms and limbs. The other case of 
dropsy in this town is in the same condition I am — or her 
dropsical limbs, I mean. The doctor says she cannot last 
long. She is now on the township. Oh ! will the dear Lord 
see fit to take me before I come to that. Surely I cannot 
endure the severe and sudden changes sure to occur during 
the winter months, if I should live till that time. 

I have felt anxious and troubled about you, dear Frankie, 
for you were so anxious about your mother ; you usually 
write, even when I am silent, and I fear she is worse. O, sis- 
ter, you have been blest in having even one parent spared to 
you so long. Try to school yourself for the parting that must 
come ere long, and be thankful you have a husband's and 



Letters 127 

child's tender love, and that your loss will be her eternal 
gain. * * * Ever since the hot weather began, it seems, 
my financial weights have been unavoidably heavy. O, 
Frankie, the dear Lord will certainly give you special bless- 
ing for your most kind and self-sacrificing efforts in my behalf. 
When I am no more, I want you to feel that you made my 
burden much less heavy, and that my days here were made 
much more comfortable by the blessing of God upon your 
efforts ; for be assured, dear one, were it not for the funds 
received for the little book I know not how I would get 
along, or how I could bear the expense my affliction and 
wants would necessarily bring upon me. Oh ! the dear Lord 
certainly will give you the satisfaction and comfort that is the 
outgrowth of cheerful giving. Give my best Christian love 
to Elder Hanover, and all who may inquire for me, those of 
your own household in particular. 

Ever yours in love, 

MARY PARKER. 



October, 1888. 
Dear Frankie, precious Sister and Friend : 

Brother John brought my mail last night at 9 o'clock 
P. M. There were seven letters in all, and all containing the 
precious gems, the rare jewels from our Heavenly Father's 
rich magazine of grace. No letters had come to me for 
several days. A gloom and heaviness of mind weighed me 
down, so that I could not even appear cheerful in the 
presence of friends. Pain of body, various trials, financial 
weights, with a mind that would be anxious and " troubled 
about many things," with my sins and imperfections making 
me appear so hateful that 

" Myself could hardly bear 
This wretched heart of mine." 



128 Reminiscences and Letters 

I felt, too, all the while that dear JesuS was the same, that my 
dear kindred in Him were the same, but I could not see how 
one so vile, so ignorant, so low, could be loved by one who 
is holy, and by the beloved and chosen people. But oh ! 
those dear white-winged messengers, two of which came from 
a foreign land, across the deep blue sea. Truly they came to 
me as " good news from a far country ; " and they tell the 
dear old story, the same sweet story we love so well on this 
shore, the story of Jesus and His matchless love. Oh ! what 
a sweet story it seemed to me, as it was so sweetly told by 
that dear old brother across the sea. How sweetly he spoke 
of Jesus as suffering for us, saying, "He remembers the 
wounds, the prints of the nails, the thrust of the sword, the 
pain He suffered for us," and we are not content until He 
tells us that " it was for you." How beautiful and true it all 
seemed, but I had never seemed to think of it just in that way, 
I mean that the dear Redeemer remembers it now, in all His 
glory, His majesty and might on the throne, crowned as He 
is, not with thorns, but with the glory given to the only 
begotten of the Father, Jesus, " the mighty God, the ever- 
lasting Father, the Prince of Peace." In my seasons of 
great darkness, Frankie, I seem to myself to be little better 
than an infidel, only I k?iow there is a God ; but I seem not 
to feel it, I seem void of all sense of His loving presence, 
His care over me, His love. Then when the clouds break, 
and such an overwhelming sense of His wonderful love, His 
tender watch-care, His unbounded goodness to me, a vile 
sinner, comes to me as it did last night by the coming of 
your letter and the others, I am indeed amazed, overcome 
with unspeakable joy. 

I had been so troubled about you, dear, lest you were ill ; 
but the dear Lord in mercy provided for all needs, and blessed 
you and family with usual health. Oh ! my sister, it all 
seemed so much, too much, and I could not quiet myself suffi- 



Letters 129 

ciently to fall into slumber until long after midnight, so 
happy was I, so filled with a sense of God's goodness, mercy 
and love. Whilst I read your loving words, and learned of 
the goodness of God in so blessing your efforts in my behalf, 
how my own conscience condemned me, and how unworthy 
I seemed of your love, much less the love of Jesus. From the 
depths of my heart went out the cry, "unclean, unclean!" 
and I felt humbled in the sight of the living God, and so low iri 
my own eyes ; and I could but fall at His feet, and, whilst I 
wondered and adored, cry, " Lord, if thou wilt thou canst make 
me clean." In moments such as now the manifest presence 
and goodness of God seems as plain to me as to the children 
of Israel, when He went before them in a pillar of fire. In 
my helplessness, I am made to see more clearly my need of 
Him every moment, realize the greatness of His power and 
helpfulness, and that without Him I can indeed do nothing. 

Dear one, I often feel deeply condemned on account of 
my worldly mindedness, my proneness to be, like Martha, 
anxious and troubled about the things of this life, which you 
say truly, are but husks. But, dear sister, I am so powerless 
to help myself; and the Lord tells us to provide things honest 
before men, and to render unto Caesar the things which are 
Csesar's. 

When the dear Lord, without any help or effort on my 
part, provides means for me to render unto Caesar, it certainly 
fills me with greater thankfulness, as well as greater humble- 
ness of heart ; therefore I trust it is not a grasping spirit or a 
covetous one which causes me to feel anxious about unavoida- 
ble indebtedness. I can write no more, as I am utterly tired 
out. With a deep, life-long sense of thankfulness, and love, 

I am your afflicted 

MARY. 



130 Reminiscences and Letters 

January, 1889. 
Dear Frankie : 

Your letter came last night, and, as usual, it brought 
comfort and rest and sweetness to my tired, tempest- 
tossed soul. I lately had a chill lasting twelve hours, in 
which I suffered more than any one can know. My bad foot 
is now one mass of ulcers, and the flesh nearly all ready to fall 
off the three misshapen toes. Oh ! surely I cannot endure 
much longer, but can only trust in Him who has always been 
my help, and I know will be to the end. Should I never 
write you again, dear, remember always that I loved you, and 
am deeply grateful for the much you have done for me. I am 
so sorry for your troubles, and weights, and sorrows, yet look 
up to the hills from whence cometh our help, and trust you 
are journeying on to a land of peace and rest, to awake in the 
image and likeness of the divine Redeemer. And now good- 
bye, dear sister, and if this be the last, we have the blessed 
hope that we will meet in the bright, glad beyond, never more 
to part, with sin and sorrow forever washed away, and where 
death shall be swallowed up in victory and everlasting life. 
In deep affection, 

MARY. 



February, 1889. 
Dear Precious Sister : 

Life to me the past few months has been unusually full of 
trial and suffering, and I am, oh ! so weary of it all, and wish 
it would please the dear Father to call me where 

The wicked cease from troubling, 
And the weary are at rest. 

Since my unusually hard and long chill I have been much 
prostrated. My bed sores and foot are much worse, yet when 



Letters 131 

I feel that one who has everlasting strength is " strengthening 
me upon my bed of languishing, and that He makes all my bed 
in my sickness," I then feel that I can bear even my great 
pain, and indeed all things, through Christ who strengthens 
me. Oh ! why is it, if I am truly a child of God, that I am 
so often in doubt and darkness ? Why, when I feel the dear 
Saviour's presence, I can so praise and adore, and everything 
looks so bright, and my soul's salvation so sure ; then when 
He withdraws " a stone's throw" I am ready to faint, and 
think surely I will sink beneath the waves, and cry out, as did 
Peter, "Lord save, I perish?" How often my frail life's 
bark is tossed by the pitiless waves of a Galilean sea ; yet 
Jesus has never failed yet to soothe and quiet me by His, " It is 
I, be not afraid ; " has never failed to speak His sweet, " Peace, 
be still," to the raging billows, and give me a sweet calm. 
Oh ! the safety of His sheltering care, the sweetness of His 
love. It grieves me so, because I cannot always feel His 
presence, cannot always sit at His dear feet and learn of Him, 
in whom alone " there is fullness of joy, at whose right hand 
there are pleasures forever more. " You seem to me, dear 
one, to have grown so far ahead of me in grace, in spiritual 
knowledge, and your letters manifest so much more of the 
indwelling spirit, and the meekness and lowliness of Christ, 
than do mine, and while I rejoice for your sake, I loathe 
myself for being so worldly, and so often troubled about many 
things. It is so good of you to speak so soothingly about my 
financial future ; yet I trust the dear Lord will provide in the 
future as He has in the past. Oh ! I am so weary, so tired. 
Forgive this long, dull letter and remember me in love to 
dear mother Ashbrook, brother Tommy and Roy. 

Your very poor little sister, 

MARY PARKER. 



132 Reminiscences and Letters 

April, 1889. 

Dear Frankie : 

I have at last taken my pen to try to write, but doubt 
whether the excruciating pain and feeble strength will allow me 
to finish a letter. It is so hard for me to give up this one means 
of intercourse with one between whom and myself so strong a 
bond of true and tried affection exists, and so sweet a bond of 
Christian-fellowship and love. Your last comforting letter, 
which I read again and again, hanging upon the words as the 
bees hang upon the fragrant bloom, each time culling sweet- 
ness, comfort and both spiritual and intellectual strength, 
should have met with an early reply, but my weak, painful 
condition has been such that I had not the energy, heart, or 
whatever it takes to actuate one in such a condition, to effort 
of any kind. I have not improved the least in health, in any 
way. On the contrary, the accumulation of water increases. 
The chills, the pain and ulceration are greatly aggravated. 
The physicians again think and talk seriously of taking the 
risk of tapping, although they say I am too weak to bear it. 
What intimidates me is the fear of being left alive in a still 
worse condition, and a necessity of often repeating the opera- 
tion, which usually follows this artificial means of discharging 
the water. Dear Frankie, your words did not sadden me, 
but seemed rather to inspire me with new strength, and oh ! 
so much comfort. Whilst it is my longing desire " to depart 
and be with Christ, which is far better," still if it is His infin- 
ite will, for some purpose unseen to us, to leave me here to 
suffer, and also, as I trust, to suffer with Him, that I may be 
glorified with Him, what a sweet comfort to me, in my 
orphaned condition, to feel that you, dear Frankie, desire my 
presence, my companionship. Oh ! it is hard to look out on 
this great beautiful world, knowing that all its beauty and 
fullness belong to the Lord, to our Lord, and yet feel, oh ! 






Letters 133 

so keenly, that in the vineyard where I am placed, there is no 
place where I, poor, helpless and unworthy, feel that I have a 
right to lay my head. Yet did not dear Jesus feel something 
of this when He said, " The foxes have holes, the birds of the 
air have nests, but the Son of Man hath not where to lay 
His head?" Dear Lamb of God, He who was able to call 
legions of angels to His aid, to suffer thus in His human 
nature, and that, too, that he might have pity and fellowship 
for his suffering children. Oh ! is it not wonderful ? So great 
a self-sacrifice would need to be upheld by a superhuman 
effort and strength. What an example ever to me is the case 
of poor Lazarus. Friendless and homeless, full of sores, no 
human hand to soothe by the gentle touch of love, no human 
heart to pity. Even the crumbs from the rich man's table 
denied him. But soon the scene changes, and we behold the 
same poor beggar caressed, tenderly nurtured in the bosom of 
Abraham. * * * I commenced this letter 

several days ago, but my foot and limb caused me such severe 
pain I was forced to quit. I had a dreadful night, and until 
2 o'clock to-day suffered so I just thought I could not live 
and endure the pain, but have become some easier. Oh ! how 
strengthless I feel ; how I cling to Him in whom alone I can 
find strength, and who soothes me by His beloved presence. 
Nearer and dearer my blessed Saviour becomes each day of 
this painful life-trial. How I long to see Him as He is, to be 
with Him, and be like Him. Surely the passionate longing I 
feel toward Him, both in His matchless glory and His humble 
humanity, can be nothing less than His divine love implanted 
within me, whereby I am made to cry, Abba Father. * * * 
Many precious letters lie here unanswered, but I cannot write 
much in this awful condition. I must cease now, on account 
of the dreadful pain. 

Your devoted and suffering 

MARY. 



134 Reminiscences and Letters 

July, 1889. 
My Beloved Sister : 

As you will doubtless suppose, my silence has been 
caused by the unusual severity of my affliction. My chills 
have occurred every few days, followed by great prostration. 
I have been raising blood for several weeks, but finally took 
a hemorrhage, throwing up a great quantity of blood, which 
caused great weakness. I have had several sinking spells, 
and would be unconscious for quite a while. Last Sunday I 
was in one all the afternoon, and seemed more dead than 
alive. My entire condition has, from some cause, been 
greatly worse. Oh ! dear sister, my trials are great, but does 
not Jesus have charge of the furnace, and will He allow its 
fires to consume me ? Oh, no ; I by faith believe not. Oh ! 
it is sweet through it all to feel that the shining presence of 
the Son of God is in the furnace with me, and sweetly shields 
my soul from its flames, whilst, as I trust, the dross is being 
consumed. Your' dear, precious letter was sweeter to me than 
the perfume of rare flowers, more consoling than ten thousand 
expressions from the lips of an unregenerate person. In my 
weakness and pain I perused its pages again and again. You 
say you thank God for my love and esteem. Ah ! dear, you 
cannot know what a source of comfort yours is to me in my 
loneliness and pain. * * * (Several days later.) The 
next week after you were here I became so greatly worse, that 
I did not even know enough to miss or long for your letters, 
and the fact that you had lately been here seemed more like 
a dream than a reality. I had chills every other day for a 
week, and my other limb swelled painfully and became 
inflamed from the hip to the ankle. I was very delirious and 
suffered beyond description. I was so depressed in mind, 
even the beloved countenance of the blessed Redeemer seemed 
veiled and a cloud enveloped me whose darkness I believed 
not even the Sun of Righteousness could dispel. I am some 



Letters 135 

better physically, and if not deceived, I have at times sweetly 
felt that, " Behind a frowning providence, He hides a smiling 
face. ' ' Every evening about twilight I become quite flighty, 
and my reason for a time seems to desert me ; but toward 
morning I become myself again. Oh, Frankie, it is so terri- 
ble to suffer in this way, to struggle so to maintain one's 
mental balance, and yet to feel it slipping away in spite of all 
efforts. That the dear Lord will not suffer this condition to 
become permanent is my fervent cry. With love to your 
family and dear Mother Ashbrook, 

I remain your loving, suffering 

MARY. 



November, 1889. 
My Beloved Sister and Friend : 

I have been silent a long while but could not avoid it. 
How many times in the midst of pain and partial delirium 
have I caught myself calling your name. Then when I would 
arouse myself to the fact that many miles lay between us, and 
that only in spirit could I commune with you, my sorrow and 
loneliness seemed like a crushing weight. Since I last wrote 
you I have been changed into my winter quarters. Oh ! the 
terrible suffering, both of body and mind, cannot be told. 
Great clusters of carbuncles, as large as one's hand, have 
appeared wherever there is any pressure of the flesh against 
the bed. It is past description and none can imagine just 
how it is. This trouble is far worse than it ever was before. 
My face is much swollen and flushed with fever, and the 
almost transparent whiteness the water produces causes me to 
look well, save about the eyes and mouth. John and Lottie 
made my room very pretty with new wall-paper and curtains \ 
and I have the best little stove, which throws out an even 
heat. You don't know how much it will add to my comfort, 



136 Reminiscences and Letters 

and how thankful I feel to the dear Lord, to those dear ones 
who sent me money, and to you, my more than friend, whose 
self-sacrificing efforts have done so much for my comfort. I 
am not at all worthy, but oh ! in sincerity of heart and spirit 
my poor soul cries out to be made worthy, and also for divine 
blessing upon your life ; and may the Lord cause you to feel 
in your heart that it is "blessed to give." When the great 
goodness of my living, risen Saviour, together with the gener- 
ous kindness of those in whom the fullness of His love. dwells, 
rises up before me I am speechless with a glad, happy thank- 
fulness I can find no words to express. Oh ! how near and 
dear it seems to bring Jesus to me. All the while, during the 
awful pain of the long, sleepless night, last night, would my 
heart overflow with thankfulness, and my mouth speak aloud 
His praise. But, dear, I am too painfully ill to tell of it. 
Have had two chills since Sunday, and have those terrible 
carbuncles on both limbs, where they press against the bed. 
My agony cannot be told, yet I am very happy amid all this 
pain, for surely Jesus cares for me,, is near me, and His 
presence is better than bodily ease. May heaven's richest 
blessing rest on you, dear, and your little family, is the prayer 
of your weak sister, 

MARY PARKER. 



January, 1890. 
My Beloved Sister : 

A number of times during the past month have I attempted 
to write, but was forced, through intense pain and weakness, 
to abandon it. I have had an attack of the malady prevalent 
throughout the land, "La Grippe," which almost took what 
little vitality and strength were left me. 

You ask if I had any pleasant tokens at the glad Christ- 
mas time. O, yes, infinitely more than I deserve. So many 
letters and packages came by mail that Brother John looked 



Letters 137 

like a veritable " Chris Krinkle " when he came from the office, 
so that my heart was one glad song of thanksgiving and praise. 
How much good the kind expressions from the heart and pen 
of our dear Father Dodd did me I can never tell. It is such 
a strength to know that I have his prayers. * * * (Sev- 
eral days later.) I had a relapse of La Grippe since I wrote the 
preceding, and was brought very low. I desire to write much 
more but cannot. 

Ever your loving sister, 

MARY. 



June, 1890. 
Beloved Frankie : 

A week ago I was seized with violent cramps, and when 
partially recovered from that attack I took a hard chill, 
followed shortly by another, and now have two of those 
dreadful carbuncles on my best limb, while the other is 
intensely inflamed and painful by my having to recline on 
that side. I feel so weak, and think my summons may come 
at any moment. Oh ! how often I think of you, and of my 
own dear and peculiar people, especially where I know they 
are met together to worship God, and have felt in spirit I was 
with them, and held sweet communion with the saints, and 
had a view of the closeness of the union with Christ and the 
church, the Bridegroom and the bride. Oh ! to me there is 
something so beautiful, so secure aud so glorious to contemplate 
in this close and wonderful union. The one cannot exist 
without the other, and in this glorious unity there is the only 
sure foundation for the sinner's hope. Oh ! to think we are 
saved by grace, redeemed by His blood, and brought off 
" conquerors, and more than conquerors, through Him that 
loved us." 

I can give you no idea, Sister Alma, how very near the 
gates of death I have seemed to draw of late. Oh ! that it 
would please the dear Master to call me home, where this life 



138 Reminiscences and Letters 

of death will be forever over. Last week Elder John Hoppes 
and wife called to see me. I was suffering terribly from 
suffocation, but was glad even to look on their faces; but 
when I tried to say a few words in a low whisper, I got so 
smothered they all had to leave the room. I have had two 
chills this week, and the limb the least affected looks just like 
it had been scalded. The left limb is discharging water, and 
is terrible to see. Pray for me, dear sister, that the waters of 
affliction may not overwhelm me. Surely the dear Lord, who 
feeds the ravens, and who said, "Ye are of more value than 
many sparrows, "will not allow me to suffer from want. May 
heaven's richest blessings be yours in life, is the prayer of 
your faithful but suffering friend, 

MARY PARKER. 



November, 1890. 
My Dear Friend and Sister : 

Doubtless you think me very neglectful, but could you 
know my weakness and suffering, my awful sense of suffocation, 
and weary heartache, you would not wonder at my long 
silence. Many letters from dear brethren and sisters from 
many parts of the United States lie before me unanswered. 

The past summer has been a season unusually and 
intensely trying to me. I have also had mental and heart 
trials that no one knows but my dear Helper, my gracious 
Burden-bearer. You can have no idea how dark seems the 
cloud which envelopes me. Oh ! for more grace, more faith, 
a closer drawing to Him whose tender tones come to His 
people in the " still small voice." I desire always to praise, 
adore and bless Him on whom we are told to "cast all our 
care; " but oh ! with what halting, feeble steps do I go forth 
to serve Him. How stammering is my tongue, how cold and 
insipid the utmost zeal I can make manifest ! So far short do 
I fall in all my attempts to honor and serve Him, that I feel 
to cover myself with dust and cry, " unclean, unclean ! " Oh! 



Letters 139 

how I long for your companionship ! We who seem to be led 
in the same shadowed paths, whose spiritual sky is so often 
overcast, could we but converse face to face once more. 
When will these dreary, earthly nights be past, and we behold 
the bright dawning of eternal day? Now, dear, I cannot 
write more, I suffer so, but I feel rich when I can claim Jesus 

as my friend. 

Write soon to your faithful friend, 

MARY. 



January 30, 1891. 
My Beloved Sister : 

Now I am making the attempt to write again, but fear it 
will be a miserable failure, as already I am making blunders. 
Oh ! the awful suffering, the pain and weariness ; will it never 
cease ? Will the tired, tempest-tossed body never find rest in 
that blessed sleep, "from which none ever wakes to weep?" 
Everywhere that the flesh has to rest against anything are 
sores, great painful sores. But why tell of it ? It is the same 
old story. None but Jesus can soothe me, none else give me 
ease ; and oh ! that I could more fully put in Him all my trust, 
lay on Him all my burdens ; for sweetly He will give His weary, 
fainting children rest. How often, when the weariness and pain 
get so heavy I cannot bear them, do I feel Him becoming my 
strength in weakness, a blessed burden bearer in all my heavy 
trouble and woe. 

It is after nightfall, and such a dreary, dark night, not 
unlike the night-time of the soul when one seems to be 
" without hope, and without God in the world." I have been 
listening to the patter of the rain, and it would seem suffi- 
cient to lull any one to sleep, but the suffering which racks 
my poor body will not allow me to sleep. Your last letter 
was a great comfort, and I thank you so much for the 
effort made for my sake to write it. I know it must cost you 
a great effort to write such a letter, burdened as you are with 



140 Reminiscences and Letters 

such heavy social and domestic cares. Ever since the winter 
set in I have suffered more, and the dropsy is worse. Oh ! 
the intense pain in body and limbs, the gasping for breath, 
the bleeding sores, the weight of the heavy limbs on my 
ulcerated feet, with all the agony endured in those terrible 
chills, it often seems too great to bear ; but the dear Saviour 
knows all my burdens, and He will not try me further than I 
can bear. Give my love to the dear ones in your home cir- 
cle, as well as the brethren and sisters at Pleasant Run. 
Ever yours, 

MARY PARKER. 



April, 1 89 1. 
My Beloved Sister : 

Your letter, together with one from a dear sister in 
Georgia, came last night, and they were deeply comforting. 
Such expressions and assurances are of more value to me than 
silver and gold. I cannot write much of a letter, for I am not 
any better. My best limb is now very painful, swollen and 
inflamed, and the deformed one worse than it has been for 
years. I don't know how to bear up under the awful suffering 
and the mental weights. I have had pleurisy of the lungs 
again, and had to have medical attention all last week. It 
makes me feel lonely to know dear Father Dodd is no more. 
One by one we are crossing the mystic river, one by one are 
reaching the golden strand. Soon all will be gathered 
home to die no more ; blessed thought ! 

I hope soon to see you face to face once more, dear 
sister, if my life is spared. The goodness of God is still 
round about me, the everlasting arms underneath me. Oh ! 
may His love be your stay and mine, is the prayer of your 
unworthy loving friend, 

MARY PARKER. 



Letters 141 

April, 1 89 1. 

Very Dear Sister Frankie : 

I ?m very sick, but will try to write a brief letter. I am 
sick both in body and mind, and feel lonely indeed. 
Oh ! that I might see a gleam of light from the Sun of 
Righteousness to illumine my benighted mind ; but some- 
times all sense of the pardoning love and mercy of the 
dear Redeemer is lost sight of in the overpowering influ- 
ence of my weakness and sin. Oh ! that I could be removed 
from this world to the home above, has been my cry for years. 
Yet when I think of the indwelling sin of my deceitful heart, 
I think it a wonderful mercy that I have not been appointed 
a place among the wicked, who go down into the pit of ever- 
lasting torment. But I know Jesus is merciful, kind and 
good, that God is just and holy, and peace comes wafted 
across the tempestuous waves, and the sound of a voice 
saying sweetly, " It is I, be not afraid." Oh ! the goodness 
of such a merciful God ! The thought of it even now brings 
tears to my eyes, and peace and joy to my lonely, tried heart, 
and I feel that I could bless His dear name forevermore. I 
was so comforted by your last letter. Do you hear from 
Sister Rumney, or Brother and Sister Casse, of England ? I 
was much comforted by their letters. It was indeed good 
news from a far country. I am very partial to English people. 
My mother's people came from Devonshire, England, and 
many of my intimate friends are of that nationality. You, 
dear sister, have my heartfelt thanks for your kindness to me, 
the poorest of the flock. May the dear Lord abundantly 
reward you ; I cannot. 

Your affectionate little sister, I hope, in Christ, 

MARY PARKER. 



142 Reminiscences and Letters 

April, 1 89 1. 
Very Kind and Precious Sister : 

Your box, laden with its helpful contents, came last 
evening on the five o'clock train. How unworthy I feel to be 
again the recipient of your unbounded kindness. Now, dear, 
I b.eg you not to continue copying further for my new book. 
If I have your dear name among the list, I will be satisfied. 

I am so glad there is being added to your pleasant little 
band at Pleasant Run such as are to be saved, and that the 
little ones come with glad, eager feet to the mother, the 
Church, telling what great things the Lord has done for them. 
Blessed be His holy name ! 

I had a sore to open on my bad limb about a month ago 
about as large as a three-cent piece. Now it covers all the 
front of the limb, and is giving me great pain and trouble. 
The neighbors seem so anxious and sympathetic about it, as 
do also this dear little family. The people here are very 
good to me. Indeed everybody is good to me, the blessed 
Lord best of all, for He filleth all in all, and is the author of 
all good. Oh ! may He bless you and yours, and keep you 
ever, is my heartfelt prayer. I just fall asleep while trying to 
write, I am so worn out for sleep. My limb pains me so I 
am just suffering from the want of sleep. 

Do write soon to your afflicted, loving 

MARY. 



[Dear friends and kindred in hope : In submitting the 
foregoing extracts for publication, which I have culled from 
near fifty letters received since compiling " Collection of 
Gems," I have selected only such as I think will most fully 
answer the numerous inquiries sent to me from, nearly every 
state in the Union, respecting Sister Parker's situation physi- 



Letters 1 43 

cally and temporally. While trying to avoid sameness or 
repetition, I have described her situation in her own language, 
though tongue or pen is quite inadequate fully to describe the 
dreadful suffering she hourly endures, day and night, without 
an hour's respite. Yet her faith and trust in God, and her 
sublime fortitude amidst her deep afflictions, are equally 
wonderful. With kindly Christian greeting to all, I ask an 
interest in your prayers for a weak sinner saved by grace, if 
saved at all. 

ALMA F. McNAUGHTEN. 



From the Signs of the Times. 

New Holland, O., March 26, 1887. 
Miss Emma L. Smith. 
Dear Sister : 

I presume you, like others, have become discour- 
aged in writing to one from whom you receive no response. I 
greatly miss your pleasant, cheerful letters, yet my condition 
has been such, my pain has been so great, that I could write 
no letters. 

You requested me in your last letter to write my 
thoughts upon the portion of Scripture which reads thus : 
"Be ye angry and sin not ; let not the sun go down upon 
your wrath." — Eph. iv : 26. How singular that you should 
make such a request of me, who seem the very poorest and 
feeblest of the " little flock," if one at all, who am so ignor- 
ant, and who have been so long deprived of the teaching of 
faithful ministers. 

The Apostle begins the epistle with an exhortation, earn- 
est and fervent. " I, therefore, the prisoner of the Lord, 
beseech you that ye walk worthy of the vocation wherewith 



144 Reminiscences and Letters 

ye are called ; with all lowliness and meekness, with long-suf- 
fering, forbearing one another in love." What anxiety the 
Apostle here shows himself possessed of, that the saints should 
walk worthy of the high and important vocation wherewith 
they have been called, and that they grieve not the Holy 
Spirit of God whereby they are sealed unto the day of redemp- 
tion. That they "grieve not the Holy Spirit." How ter- 
rible the thought that we, poor, dependent creatures should 
grieve the Holy Spirit. How softly should we walk before 
Him in love, in all lowliness and meekness, being careful of 
our walk, our actions and our conversation, that we grieve not 
our dear Lord and crucify our Saviour afresh. O, my sister, 
how can we read the teachings of the New Testament and not 
be filled with a burning desire to walk worthy of the high and 
wonderful vocation wherewith we are called ? The reading of 
the chapter in question fills me with such a multitude of con- 
flicting thoughts and emotions that to arrange them on paper 
in an intelligible and satisfactory manner seems quite out of 
my reach. Memory takes me back to the happy, golden days 
when I was baptized, when 

" On the wings of His love / 

I was carried above 
All sorrow, temptation and pain." 

And the almost unalloyed rapture of peace and bliss that 
came to me when I went down into the watery grave, was only 
surpassed by the dense darkness that soon after enveloped me, 
and seemed to effectually shut out every ray of light from the 
glorious Sun of Righteousness. I had thought to walk, O so 
softly. All sin, all earthly passions, seemed dead. But alas ! 
how soon I knew they had but slumbered, to awake with 
renewed strength upon my startled senses. It was at this time 
that the words, "Be ye angry and sin not; let not the sun 
go down upon your wrath," rested with great weight upon my 



Letters 145 

mind, causing great disquiet and unrest. I was at this time 
young and inexperienced in everything. We (my father's 
family) fell into great domestic affliction. My mother became 
a helpless sufferer, my eldest brother lost his wife, bringing 
to our home two motherless little boys, who had whooping 
cough. I left school and assumed entire charge of the house- 
hold. I had much care, that, with my inexperience, caused me 
often to feel and act irritable. In all the ignorance of baby- 
hood my feet were continually slipping, and I was prone to 
look to self for help, instead of casting my burden on Him 
who so tenderly promises to care for us. How Satan would 
come to me in cunning craftiness and strive to make me give 
up all for lost. How he would whisper in my ear, " Ah, you 
were such a fine Christian, such a pious girl ; hundreds of 
persons stood on the banks and saw you baptized, with tears 
in their eyes. They thought you were changed, and believed 
you were redeemed ; and oh ! how you have deceived them and 
your dear father and mother." I could neither eat nor sleep, 
and I resolved to tell the dear saints at the next church meet- 
ing that I was deceived and had deceived them. But, blessed 
be the name of Jesus, His foot-steps were recognized upon the 
tempestuous waves, and His dear voice whispered, " Peace, be 
still," and I was enabled to rejoice in hope of the glory of 
God. Never again, since that time, have the words, "Be ye 
angry," etc., seemed to me so like the rod of vengeance or 
correction, but more like an exhortation to a serene and 
Christian deportment. All Christians have alike their 
human weaknesses, but some seem naturally more given to 
fits of ill temper and anger. The mother, with her many 
household cares, the training and care and burden of num- 
erous offspring, has much to try her; her delicate 
organization bcomes overstrained ; she is nervous, irri- 
table, and often angry. Such an one should be pitied 
and -excused. But when we, with little or no provocation, 



146 Reminiscences and Letters 

give way to anger, and utter unjust, unkind accusations 
against our fellow-beings, let us quickly repent and beg 
forgiveness, both of God and those we wrong. Elijah, who 
had such power in prayer, and to whom the Lord on differ- 
ent occasions made himself so wondrously manifest, was a 
"man of like passions as we;" so that when we mourn our 
shortcomings we are not to give up our precious hope because 
of them, but rather seek to crucify them and to keep them 
under subjection. "Be ye angry and sin not," appears to 
me to mean that should we be angry (which we certainly will 
be at times), we should not sin by using bad language, by 
speaking bitterly, unkindly and harshly, by committing deeds 
of violence, or manifesting an angry, vindictive or resentful 
spirit ; remembering that He whom we profess to follow, 
when He was reviled, reviled not again ; when He was buf- 
feted, He threatened not. " Let not the sun go down upon 
your wrath," also appears to me to mean that whatever may 
have been our cause for anger, whatever perplexities and vex- 
ation may have beset our pathway during the busy scenes of 
the day, let not the curtain of night, as it draws its peaceful 
shades about us, find our minds filled with anger and wrath. 
Let not the going down of the sun find us in this state ; for 
if ever there is a time when the child of God feels the need 
of tranquility of mind, it is at the coming on of nightfall, 
when the body is about to be laid down to that rest so like, 
and emblematic of, the sleep of death. 

<p **t* ^T* *t* *T* *T* ^K 

Dear sister, the Lord has graciously given me strength, 
during intervals of comparative freedom from smothering and 
pain, to write this letter. I write under a compulsory feel- 
ing, as though it was the will of Him whom I love to serve 
that I do so. If it is anything to you, and the brethren Beebe 
see fit to publish it, you may send it to them. I cannot, unless 
the coming summer and spring breezes increase my feeble 



Letters 147 

strength, keep up a private, personal correspondence with 
those I so much love, and I may, if permitted, occasionally 
address them through the Signs. With a fervency of love, 
craving an interest in the prayers of the dear household of 
faith, begging those who feel so disposed to still favor me 
with their words of comfort, I now commend you all to the 
love and ever-tender watch-care of our ever-dear and blessed 
Shepherd, who careth for His sheep, and allows none of them 
to be plucked out of His hand. 

MARY PARKER. 



September 2, 1888. 
Miss Emma L. Smith : 

My Beloved Sister : 

This is Sabbath, bright, clear and dreamy, with the 
mellow sunlight and mild, autumn, invigorating breezes, 
which, to me, make up the blending of the most enjoyable 
elements in nature, and is of all seasons the most peaceful and 
delightful. I have wanted for so long to write you, but I 
could not. It was all I could do to live during the hot 
season, and letter writing, much as I love it, was altogether out 
of the question. The stillness and loneliness of my room 
seem oppressive. I have just taken one of my little, unre- 
freshing slumbers, from which I awoke in great bodily pain. 
For some time past during my waking hours I have felt 
greatly burdened, and mourned the absence of my best of 
friends ; and after sleep the weight seems to bear down upon 
me with almost unbearable force. I ask myself why this 
awful weight ? Jesus is not dead, is not gone, is not changed, 
and why all this disquiet, this terrible heart ache and despond- 
ency that almost overpowers my reason? Is it caused by 
physical derangement, or is it the hungering and thirsting 
after righteousness, with which the world has nothing to do ? 



148 Reminiscences and Letters 

Is it that there is " In my heart an aching void the world can 
never fill ? " I have an oppressed feeling much of the time 
as though I were guilty of some gross offense, as if I had com- 
mitted some certain sin, which causes the blessed Saviour to 
withdraw His dear, divine favor. Do you ever feel so? 
Dear Emma, how often I wish it would please the Lord to 
direct your footsteps to our town to teach. Sister Lottie said 
the other day we would certainly have to importune you to 
come. 

I had so many dear, comforting epistles of love from loved 
ones this week. They were all so consoling and uplifting, 
and each one seemed a rare, precious jewel from the dear 
Master's hand. 

I know this is a poor letter, but I am unable to improve 
it. 

Your suffering sister, 

MARY. 



October 30, 1889. 
My own Beloved Emma : 

How I would love to have you here in my quiet room 
to-night. All is quiet, oh ! so quiet, with only the ceaseless 
ticking of the clock and my own sad thoughts for company. I 
have been alone nearly all of to-day, and sometimes was delir- 
ious ; and to describe the awful feelings that would come over 
me, when I could not realize where I was, who I was, or what 
time in the day it was, are beyond all powers of description. 
With what tender, anxious longings have my thoughts gone out 
to you this week in my loneliness and sorrow. I say sorrow, 
for, dear sister, I do have great sorrow, and I do often feel very 
lonely, but not alone, for in all the weariness and pain I cry, 
and reach out my helpless hands to Jesus, who 

" Soothes my sorrows, heals my wounds, 
And drives away my fears." 



Letters 149 

Yet I do long for human sympathy, and such love and 
condolence as I know you would offer, could you know all my 
trouble, and see my intense, unconquerable pain. Oh ! if it 
would only please the beneficent Father to take me home. 
What longing fills my heart as my thoughts linger on the word 
"Home." How full its meaning! I can never in this life 
have a home. But oh ! to look beyond this world, beyond 
the grave, to the shining shore where dwells Jesus, with all the 
blood-bought throng. That is home indeed \ where the 
weary find rest, where the sick are made whole, where the 
hungry find food, and the poor become rich. I had a dear 
letter from Mattie Derr this week. I was so pleased, for it 
does seem sometimes that my dear spiritual kindred have for- 
gotten me in my loneliness and trial. 

Dear sister, the day you left here going East, Elder 
Tommy Williams was on the same coach for some distance. I 
can scarcely be reconciled that you should not have become 
acquainted. I cannot tell you how my heart goes out to you. 
I long to lay my weary head on your arm and beg you to love 
me just a little, to be my friend always, and not tire of me. 
I fear I will indeed be a burden to you. Give my dear 
love to your home folks, Sister Ward and any who may 
remember one so unworthy. Don't forget me, dear, nor fail 
to remember me at a throne of grace. 

In love, 

MARY. 



January 29, 1891. 
My own Precious Emma : 

Shall I introduce you to the enclosed, or do you recog- 
nize it at a glance ? I know you got one of my pictures of 
Elder Lines, but I wanted you to have one since I am " shut- 
in." 



150 Reminiscences and Letters 

Dear Emma, when you first came under the shadow of 
the sheltering wing of the church do you remember how calm 
and unruffled were the smooth surface of your seas, how 
almost uninterrupted were your joys and comforts in the God 
of your salvation ? Do you not read, my dear, that we are 
to " think it not strange concerning the fiery trial which is to 
try you, as though some strange thing had happened unto 
you," for " the trial of your faith is more precious than of 
gold that perisheth ? " And now, dear one, if you are 
in heaviness, if you are deeply, sorely tried, think it not 
strange, but rather rejoice that you are thought worthy to 
partake of Christ's suffering, that you may also reign with 
Him in glory. O, how I wish I could comfort you ; but I 
know not how to administer a balm, even were I capable, 
which I am not. I, too, am in heaviness, and would love 
to tell you about it, but oh ! this suffering body. The throb, 
throb, of my painful, terrible sores, makes it such a heavy 
task to write at all. Remember me in love to Sister Ward, 
and all the dear ones with whom your lot is cast. 

Lovingly, your suffering 

MARY. 



New Holland, O., August 6, 1886. 
Elder S. H. Durand : 

Very Dear Brother in Christ : 

How varied and intense were the emotions the perusal 
of your letter awakened in my heart. It acted as oil upon the 
troubled waters, and as the panacea that my aching heart par- 
ticularly needed. Your views so coincided with my own that 
I was rejoiced beyond measure. The weary hands that for 



Letters 151 

some time had hung down were lifted up again, and I was 
filled with joy in the Lord. The Saviour says His sheep hear 
His voice, and they follow Him, "And a stranger will they 
not follow, but will flee from him ; for they know not the 
voice of strangers." How striking and true is this illus- 
tration. How quickly can the child of God, who is taught 
by the spirit of truth, discern the sweet voice of truth. It is a 
voice they love to hear and to follow ; it bears to them 
sweeter melody than the finest earthly music, no matter how 
exquisitely it is rendered, for this dear voice awakens within 
their poor hearts the heavenly music of divine and redeeming 
love. Coming from Christ, who is the truth, and the source 
and fountain-head of love, it encircles and binds all the 
children of God together. Human love is sweet, but infinitely 
more sweet is the love we feel for each other in Christ, our 
Redeemer and Head. 

Your letter brought so much comfort and strength to me, 
and caused a peace and quietude to flow into my heart that I 
I had not felt for some days at least. It is so seldom I hear 
the dear voice of truth, and my soul can take no pleasure in 
the voice of error. My thirst cannot be satisfied upon the 
wine of Babylon. I am all alone, save that I trust I have the 
blessed Comforter, who, the Saviour tells us, shall guide us 
into all truth. Your views upon faith gladdened my heart, 
and lifted a heavy weight from my mind. I believe faith to be 
he gift of God as well as grace ; and the " getting " or " exer- 
cising " of faith by any power of ours seems to me very like 
the way some talk about " getting religion." The one seems 
to me to savor just as much of works and human power as the 
other. The " faith cure," as it is carried on here, goes hand 
in hand with fleshly sanctification and " holiness." Many of 
their journals have been sent me, and it shocks me to see the 
presumption of poor, sinful beings. In one journal is the 
announcement of an "all holiness" meeting to be held 



i5 2 



Reminiscences and Letters 



at the Faith House in Columbus. I am personally acquainted 
with the founders of this house, and its principal is now in the 
Insane Asylum. 

Such characters are, I think, spoken of in Isaiah as 
" walking in the light of their own fire and in the sparks that 
they have kindled. " The wife of this person was heard to say 
at a children's meeting : "I am pure, even as Christ is pure ; 
I am holy, even as Christ is holy." Is it not deplorable that 
any should so pervert the Holy Scriptures ? And are we not 
told to " have no fellowship with these unfruitful works, but 
rather reprove them ? " Pardon me for so enlarging upon this 
subject. I can scarce forbear writing still further, for I have 
been so beset, annoyed and grieved by the adherents of the 
faith-cure system that my mind is much wrought upon con- 
cerning it. Through it all, however, the passage I first quoted, 
" My sheep hear My voice — a stranger will they not hear," 
sweetly comforts me. If I have said anything contrary to the 
spirit or teaching of truth, I beg you to tell me. 

Sunday morning. I began this letter several days ago, 
and thought I should also write an answer to Sister Bessie's dear 
letter and send with it ; but I find my strength will not allow. 
During the two weeks of extreme heat I was too ill and 
oppressed for breath to see callers, so, yesterday being a 
pleasant, breezy day, twenty-three persons were admitted 
during the day. I said a few words to each one, and all last 
night I was weak, nervous and oppressed. This morning I 
feel that one of my hard spells is coming on, and I must bring 
my letter to a close. May the mercy of God ever overshadow 
you, and His love be round and about you now and for 
evermore, 

MARY PARKER. 



Letters 153 

Extracts from letters to Mrs. Amanda L. Dulin, of 
Georgia : 

New Holland, O., Nov. 5, 1887. 
My dear Sister in Christ : 

My long silence has been caused by repeated illness and 
increased suffering, and I trust you will therefore pardon what 
may have seemed to you indifference or neglect. Oh ! it is 
most wonderful how much the human frame can be made to 
endure, and yet the painful, feeble life go on and on. I have 
just been thinking of what the dear Saviour says, "In the 
world ye shall have tribulation," but "in Me peace." Every- 
thing our great King says we know will come to pass, and 
how consoling to our doubting, sinking souls it is to meditate 
upon it. "Though heaven and earth pass away," says Jesus, 
" not one jot or tittle of My word shall fail till all be fulfilled." 
When we know that He said we shall have tribulations, why 
are we so grieved and surprised when we find it come to pass 
in our lives. Just as sure, dear sister, as is the existence of 
the Great Being Himself, so sure is it that His dear followers 
shall go up to the gates of paradise, "through much tribula- 
tion," having "washed their robes, and made them white in 
the blood of the Lamb." To you and me tribulation has 
come in the form of mental and bodily pain, in the destruc- 
tion of all our dearest earthly hopes, aspirations and reliances. 

There are "turned-down leaves" in your life and in 
mine, where now and then the mind will go back and brood 
over the sentences indelibly written there with tears that 
welled up from our bursting, aching hearts. Tribulations cer- 
tainly have fallen thick and fast all along our journey of life ; 
but, dear one, can we not take courage when we reflect that 
the dear Captain of our salvation told us that it should be so ? 
If all that makes living in this world most desirable has been 
taken from us, if health and home, father and mother, and 
our earthly substance be gone, are we not sweetly assured that 



J 54 



Reminiscences and Letters 



such afflictions, or tribulations, " work for us a far more 
exceeding and eternal weight of glory ; ' ' and whilst viewing 
these things do we not see that the declaration of our dear 
Saviour and Redeemer is being fulfilled ? But whilst it is as 
sure as the everlasting hills that we shall have tribulation in 
this world, it is just as certain that, turning to our dear 
Saviour, putting in Him all our trust, casting on Him all our 
burden and cares, and believing in Him, we shall have peace ; 
not such unstable, transitory peace as the world gives, but 
"the peace of God, which passeth all understanding." 
How very sweet when amid the darkness of the mighty deep, 
above the roar of the storm-tossed waves, there comes a 
voice, saying, " Peace be still. ' ' Blessed, soul-cheering peace ; 
it stills the awful swaying of the ship, it breathes strength 
anew into its sails, it shows that the great Captain is at the 
helm, and that our bark will yet anchor safely within the 
beautiful haven of eternal rest. 

Oh ! that we could sail often to the borders of this fair 
land, that we could look often, even through the veil of the 
flesh, at the glory that awaits us when we shall have entered 
into that final, perfect "rest that remaineth to the people of 
God." 

September 22, 1887. 

This is a most beautiful day. All day yesterday the rain 
fell in torrents, the sky hung low and intensely dark, which 
made one think of Longfellow's lines: 

" The rain is falling, falling, solemnly and slow, 
Caw, caw, the rooks are calling ; it is a sound of woe." 

It did seem a " sound of woe," indeed. But this morn- 
ing the sky is cloudless, and the mild September breezes and 
glorious sunlight brighten and gladden the whole earth. Of 
all the four seasons of the year autumn is to me the most 
enjoyable. The mild, gentle breezes, the mellow sunshine, 



Letters 155 

the soft music of birds and insects, the quiet that usually per- 
vades the whole, no one, it seems, could fail to enjoy. Oh ! 
if I could but draw a useful lesson from the beautiful scenes 
without, from the quiet and brightness of nature; if the glor- 
ious sunlight of God's eternal love could but shine through 
the dark clouds of sorrow that envelope my life and my 
weary soul, what comfort it would bring. Such a day of soft, 
heavenly breezes, of cloudless skies in the soul, after the dark 
and dreary and rainy day is pleasant indeed. But 
" Into each life some rain must fall, 
Some days be dark and dreary." 

And if we could but feel that the dear Lord " maketh the 
clouds His chariot," that He rideth upon the storm, then 
would we be patient, waiting His will. 

A few days ago I received a good deal of comfort from 
the words of Jesus, " Mary hath chosen that good part which 
shall not be taken away from her. " How soothing must have 
been these words to the sorrowful Mary as she sat pensive and 
sad at the feet of her adored Master. How sweet do they 
seem to our poor souls, when the dear compassionate Saviour 
assures us of His love, and teaches us that neither death, nor 
life, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor 
things to come, can separate us from His love, nor take from 
us " that good part," which our souls have desired and 
chosen. How blessed and rich we are after all, though we be 
ever so poor within ourselves, and poor in this world's goods, 
if " we have chosen that good part." Oh! for an humble, 
trustful mind, a longing and willingness to sit quietly at the 
dear Master's feet, a calm resignation to His infinite and 
holly will, and grace to look to Him for help in every time of 
need, to trust in His blessed promises. How sure are all His 
promises, how infinitely tender His love and watch-care to 
those who, like the Mary spoken of, " have chosen that good 
part." 



156 Reminiscences and Letters 

How storm-tossed has seemed my soul for some time past. 
Turn which way I may, nothing but trouble, darkness of soul, 
and adversity of circumstances meet me. How very truly did 
Paul say, "The sorrow of the world worketh death." Not 
death to the body, nor eternal death to the soul, but death to 
all feeling sense of His love ; death to all hunger and thirst 
after the living water and the living bread. Death, did I say, 
to all hunger and thirst after the living Bread ? No, no ! for 
if there be any life at all, any spark of His dear love within 
the soul, surely I thirst, surely I long for some token of it, 
some evidence that I have been born again, and that I have 
a right to the " inheritance that is incorruptible and undefiled, 
and that fadeth not away." But how can one utterly helpless 
and destitute claim any right to such an inheritance ? What 
have I ever done to merit it ? Simply nothing. 

" What was there in me to merit esteem, 
Or give the Creator delight ? 
'Twas even so, Father, I ever must sing, 
Because it seemed good in Thy sight." 



It is night-time with my soul, my sister, and it is night- 
time in nature. The curtain of night stretched its dusky 
mantle over the earth long ago. I am left alone in my room, 
the other occupants of the house long since having sought 
slumber. It is storming outside, and the wind sighs and 
moans most piteously. But there is a home where no night 
ever comes, and no sorrow, or sickness, or pain, or death. 
Oh ! may He " who neither slumbers nor sleeps," spread His 
dear, sheltering wings about us all ; and when our last day 
here is spent, our last sun gone down, may He take us to the 
bosom of His love to join in the song of redeeming love. 

Affectionately your sister, 

MARY PARKER. 



Letters 157 

New Holland, O., January 26, 1887. 
Mrs. Sarah Tooth. 

Dear Sister in Christ : 

Your precious letter, mailed the 24th, reached me last 
evening. You do not address me as sister, and you may not 
be a member of the visible church, but I feel assured, from 
your words and your gift, that the love of Jesus is in your 
heart. If it were not I am sure you never would have felt a 
desire to help a poor creature such as I. Words fail me to 
give expression to the thankfulness to you, and to the dear 
Lord who put it into your heart to thus remember me. Your 
letter was a blessing both naturally and spiritually, for it is a 
comfort to me to learn that my poor letters have been blessed 
to your comfort. May you sweetly realize that it is more 
blessed to give than to receive, and may the love of God flow 
into your heart, and fill you with thanksgiving and praise unto 
Him to whom alone praise and adoration belong. 

Yes, it does seem as though the able writers of the Signs 
are led more deeply into the beautiful mysteries and glories of 
the blessed gospel, of late years. They do not spend so much 
time and occupy so much space upon controverted points. 
But I do not want you to think I consider myself among the 
able writers, for oh ! I am all ignorance, all depravity within, 
so that I often feel like crying, as Paul did, " O wretched one 
that I am ! who shall deliver me from the body of this death ?' ' 
Who, indeed, can ? Certainly none but Jesus, the ever- 
blessed Saviour, who " came not to call the righteous, but 
sinners, to repentance." 

Thanking you from the depths of my heart for your kind- 
ness, and commending you to the Lord's loving care, I am, 
your unworthy sister, in hope of a blessed immortality beyond 
the grave. 

MARY PARKER. 



158 Reminiscences and Letters 

January 29, 1886. 
From letters to Miss Ruth Holcomb, of Trenton, N. J. 

Dear Sister in a Blessed Saviour : 

It is something very unusual for me to address a person 
I never met, but having read a letter from you to a dear friend 
and sister, I cannot quiet the promptings of my mind in any 
way but to write you. All day long, and at night during the 
hours when pain will not allow slumber to rest my poor pain- 
racked body and brain, the impression to write you will not 
be hushed. If I am not deceived when, years ago, the 
dear Prince of Peace came to my troubled soul and in accents 
sweet, and with a "still small voice," said, "Peace, be still," 
the tempest ceased, and I was made to "rejoice in hope of 
the glory of God." I was then given a spiritual, a glorious 
relationship with you ; but, since learning your name and 
your place of residence, I have come to believe we are also 
naturally related, and bound by the ties of consanguinity, I 
feel that I must make myself known, insignificant as I am, 
and little as I possess of personal worth to recommend myself 
to you. My dear mother's name was Hannah Holcomb, and 
she was born in a village called Lambertville, not far from 
Trenton, N. J. Her people were natives of England. Grand- 
father's given name was John, and he was a botanic doctor. 
I deeply regret my imperfect knowledge of my mother's peo- 
ple, but my grandparents both died before my birth, and being 
always in school until four years previous to my mother's 
death, I have had little opportunity to trace the family his- 
tory ; but feel that it is just possible, indeed quite probable, 
that you and I are some distant relation at least. What think 
you, my sister? From your letter that I was privileged to 
read, I am quite sure I could love you ; but as you know noth- 
ing about me you may feel otherwise. I have been a helpless 
invalid from general dropsy and other diseases for four years, 



Letters 



159 



though I have been in delicate health since my twentieth year ; 
and I am now thirty-five. I have waded through deep waters, 
I have sunk in deep mire, and have felt all the waves and bil- 
lows of human suffering and woe pass over me at times, but, 
blessed be the name of God, He has kept me by His almighty 
power, He has made me to lie down in green pastures, He 
has led me beside the still waters, and in all my bitter sorrow 
and woe His rod and His staff have comforted me. Ah ! 
my sister, it is after the angry flood-tide has swept its raging 
billows over us, that the still waters seem so grateful, so calm, 
so sweet to us. Even in my short life it seems that wave after 
wave, billow after billow, has swept over my head, and if the 
dear Lord had not pointed me to His stronghold, and bid my 
weary, -heavy-laden soul find rest, I certainly would have gone 
down to the regions of despair. I have learned by sad experi- 
ence that trial makes our faith in God grow stronger, and 
that at the destruction of each darling earthly idol, which we 
thought were props for our slippery feet, we are brought to 
cling more closely to Jesus, and to rest more steadfastly on 
His sure and blessed promises. There have been times when 
His steadfast love and watch-care over me have been made 
manifest in such a marvelous manner as to leave no room to 
doubt ; times when I have been fed and cared for, as it were, 
by the "ravens; " when assistance came in so unlooked for, 
and even unasked and unhoped for a way, as to make me feel 
that His love was very pitiful and tender, and that He 
would, indeed, never leave nor forsake me, and that He 
also knew, without my telling Him, just what I had need of. 
In instances of this kind my poor soul overflows with thank- 
fulness and love, and I feel to love and praise my dear 
Redeemer far beyond what I can find words to express. Thus 
do we realize "It is good to be afflicted, it is good to mourn, 
it is good to weep ; for in it all, through it all, we shall be 
comforted. I shall have to close now. Dear sister, will you 



j6o Reminiscences and Letters 

not do me the favor to write me ? Until within a day or 
two I have not been able to write so much as a line for sev- 
eral weeks. I may not have such a privilege again for days 
or weeks, so uncertain is the state of my health, I am so 
oppressed for breath at times. I feel of a truth that " I know 
not what hour the Son of Man cometh;" but oh! my soul 
longs and faints to escape from this prison of clay and soar to 
the mansions of bliss. 

MARY PARKER. 



March n, 1886. 
My dear Sister and Cousin : 

Since it has come to light that the same English blood 
courses in our veins, have we not a right to address each 
other as relatives? And how closely drawn is the sweet chain 
of relationship since we believe we are related both naturallyand 
spiritually. It does seem most wonderful how events are brought 
about ; yet a great Providence rules all things, and directs the 
steps and destiny of man. We all think we can trace a family 
resemblance in the features shown in your photograph. 

Sister Ruth, I am very ill, indeed, and can write but a 
line or two at this time. How I, too, wish you could come 
to me. I am vain enough to think you would love me a little 
at least. I am passing through heavy trial, but I cannot 
despair when I think of the suffering of the dear and lowly 
Jesus, and that I am but drawing nearer, and coming into a 
closer fellowship with Him through suffering. I have lately 
met with a financial loss, and my little all of this world's 
goods is in a condition that I may possibly be left almost in 
want. Pray for me, sister, for, at times, I feel it is all so 
heavy I cannot, cannot, endure it. Then again I feel strength- 
ened. Oh ! I would that earth and its trying scenes were 
forever over. The little boquet you sent me was fresh and 
fragrant. Let me hear from you soon. 

In much love, MARY PARKER. 



Letters 161 

July 4, 1886. 
I am weak and dull and in great misery, but my heart 
goes out to you in love and tender longing, and I am going 
to try to write you a little at least. The evening your dear 
letter came I was raving with pain, fever and delirium, so I 
did not know of your letter until next day, when I was once 
more "clothed and in my right mind." Oh! sister, dear, 
the Lord did regard your desire, and sweetly gave me the 
hearing ear and the understanding heart, and never did words 
come to my aching heart with more sweetness and comfort 
than through your letter. I seem to grow worse, and my 
mind is enshrouded in gloom most of the time. I pant and 
long for the end, yet shrink and dread the monster death. I 
still cling to my hope, and believe Jesus will save my poor 
soul, yet the flesh is full of dread, and an indescribable some- 
thing comes between me and the light of the Sun of Righteous- 
ness, so that I cannot feel the abiding trust I so much long 
for. It may be that when the trial is to be met, then the 
strength and calmness will come. I have heard it said we 
do not need dying faith until the moment comes. I know 
my saintly father feared and trembled sometimes when he 
thought death near; but when it did come, he seemed a 
marvel of strength ; and oh ! how sweetly, how calmly, did 
he breathe his dear life away. Since I last wrote you I have 
received a precious letter from Elder Chick, together with an 
excellent cabinet photograph ; also a pleasant letter from 
Sister Mary Woolford, of Maryland. Oh ! how happy it 
makes me amid all the gloom of my sickness, helplessness and 
many trials. To get letters from those whom Jesus loves, and 
who are dear to me through Him, is the sweetest of all my 
earthly comforts. I could not keep back the tears when I 
read your sweet pen-picture of our fancied intercourse at the 
Holcomb reunion ; and then I looked at my swollen, deformed 
limbs, and thought had it not been for the ravages of disease, 



102 Reminiscences and Letters 

imagination might have been reality, and we might, indeed, 
have met face to face, and have enjoyed sweet companionship. 
Those flowers were fresh and fragrant. Each letter I get from 
you seems to draw the cord of relationship more closely about 
me, and I feel my heart throbbing with love that will survive 
even this fleeting breath. May the dear Lord guard and bless 
you. Please write soon. 



May i, 1887. 
The day your last dear letter came I was trying to write to 
Elder Vail and wife, in acknowledgment of their letter and 
photographs. * * * This is Sunday, and the people are 
moving to and fro to their various places of worship. The 
sun shines brightly without, the air, no doubt, is balmy and 
the birds are singing their sweetest songs. How all these 
changes and beauties in nature speak, and show forth the 
praises of the wondrous Creator. I have had so much cause 
to mourn my unbelief, my inability to lay hold of God's 
blessed promises, and to rest in the knowledge of His self- 
existence, and His willingness to save a sinner such as I, of 
late ; and oh ! how wretched, how weak, how lonely do I feel 
when the storms rage, and the voice of the blessed Redeemer 
is not heard saying, "Peace, be still." Though feeling so 
burdened, so cold, so far from my dear Saviour, yet it is a 
comfort and strength to know that He is the same loving 
Saviour, the same everlasting Father, the dear "Prince of 
Peace." How sweet, too, is the thought that He has told us 
to cast our burden upon Him. Oh ! let us look to Him, dear 
Ruth, instead of trusting in the puny arm of flesh. How well 
have I seemed to learn the lesson, " vain is the help of man," 
and the importance of the holy injunction, " cease from man, 
whose breath is in his nostrils; for wherein is he to be 
accounted of." 



Letters 163 

Dear sister, I did so enjoy Elder Chick's last letter to me. 
His wife sent a word of remembrance, which pleased me 
greatly. I do so want to write to him, but have not felt able. 

I will send you a little keepsake I embroidered for you, 
trifling of itself, but when the hands that made it are folded 
away, if you are still here, you may like to look at it. In 
spirit I seem near you, and in the great beyond we will meet to 
part nevermore. Please write as often as possible and believe 
me ever your loving, 

MARY. 



July 26, 1887. 
My Beloved Cousin and Dear Sister in Christ : 

Your welcome letter came last evening, just at dark. Had 
I received it earlier, unfit as I am to write, I should have 
commenced a letter to you. My silence, dear Ruth, has been 
caused by the weak and suffering condition of my body. I 
suffocate when I exert myself in talking, moving about on the 
bed, or using my arms in any way. No, dear, I do not get 
any better, but decidedly worse ; and the severe trials my 
helplessness subjects me to rends my very heartstrings. Two 
weeks ago I was so ill my brother and wife had to bathe my 
face and hands and give me stimulants all day to keep life in 
me. I will never forget the horrors of that terrible day. I felt 
that every next moment would be my last ; and where was the 
calm trust, the eager looking for the coming of the Lord? 
Ah ! it was all gone, and Satan filled me with doubts and 
fears, and tortured me with all the vile thrusts he is capable of. 
When I thought to pray the heavens above seemed as brass, a 
darkness as a weight bore me down, and enshrouded me as a 
dark and gloomy cloud. The thought even of death appalled 
me. A funeral procession passing my window caused me to 
shudder, for soon, I thought, my poor body must be like that ; 



164 Reminiscences and Letters 

and where, O where, would be my soul, I did not seem to 
fear hell or punishment ; but when I thought of the separa- 
tion of the body from the soul all seemed blank — a chaos. 
There was no heaven, no Jesus, no compassionate Saviour in 
view. All that long and terrible day until twilight did this 
awful feeling enshroud my soul. When all of a sudden a light, 
a glory burst upon me, and for one brief moment it did seem 
my soul must leave this prison of clay and soar away to the 
glorious mansions I had in view. But only a moment did it 
last, then the old hardness of heart, the inability to pray, and 
wretched unbelief, became the ruling element of my soul. 
The promise to us, dear, is that, "As our days, so our strength 
shall be;" and when you and I are afraid to die, afraid 
of almost everything, ourselves the most, let us remember 
that "our appointed time" has not yet come, and until it 
does the strength according to that day will not be given us. 
David says, " The wicked are not troubled as other men, 
therefore they have no bands in their death." Having no 
fear of God before them, they rush headlong into eternity, 
into perdition, without a fear, a thought, or trouble. They 
have no bands in death, nothing to hold them back, nothing 
to fill them with fear and trembling. But the poor, trembling 
child of God, who sees nothing but indwelling sin, with all 
his "righteousness as filthy rags," with nothing to commend 
him to a holy and just God, is filled with fear. We know Jesus 
can and will save His people; but Oh ! " what is there in 
me to merit esteem, or give the Creator delight ?" When you 
and I are so filled with fear and trembling at the thought 
of leaving this prison of clay, let us remember that our now 
glorified and risen Saviour once suffered the same in His 
human nature, though in far deeper degree of pain and 
anguish and woe. Let us look at Him in the garden of Geth- 
semane, where He sweat, as it were, great drops of blood, and 
when He cried, in the anguish of His soul, " Father, if it be 



Letters 165 

possible let this cup pass;" and even when groaning in all the 
agony of His ignominious death upon the cross, he cried, in 
anguish, " My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken 
me?" I believe that some of us may have to mourn an 
absent Lord even when we come down to the very gates 
of death. Our Sun may be beneath a cloud, but He is there 
just the same ; and when His light bursts through the dark- 
ness will it not be the light of immortal glory ? 

It is a comfort to me to think of the last scene of my 
dear father. He had been such a valiant soldier, such a 
godly man, and when the physician told him he could not 
recover, for a few moments he trembled like an aspen leaf, but 
soon recovered calmness, and, pointing heavenward with a 
radiant countenance, said, " I shall soon be up yonder." He 
became paralyzed and speechless before death, but a short 
time before the summons came he motioned us all to him and 
took leave of each, kissing me with a fervent, lingering caress. 
After that he slept away as peacefully, as sweetly as a new born 
babe. Never will I forget the hush, the solemnity, yea, and 
the heavenly influence that came over all in that death cham- 
ber. Just as the sun rose above the eastern horizon on that 
bright May morning, did his soul take its flight to the glorious 
scenes and joys in the glad and beautiful world beyond. * * * 
Oh ! that the dear Lord may give us patience and a quiet 
resignation to His righteous will, is truly my prayer. But we 
must remember that patience and resignation do not come to 
us all at once, but "tribulation," says Paul, "worketh 
patience ;" and again, " This light affliction which is but for 
a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal 
weight of glory." You speak of the comfort and blessing of 
those dear sisters under affliction, whose articles appeared in 
the Signs, and mourn that you cannot have the same sweet 
foretastes of the heavenly joys. I feel the same way, at times, 
yet I cannot give up my own precious hope because I am not 



1 66 Reminiscences and Letters 

thus blessed. I think I have had just such blessings accorded 
me, at times ; but most of the time it is just the reverse, and 
I feel nothing but barrenness, coldness, hardness of heart, and 
an utter inability to speak words in prayer. 

Some say that if one lives circumspectly as a Christian 
he will never fear death. If that be true, then I am not a 
Christian, for I cannot be hypocritical enough to deny the 
fact that there are times when death fills me with shuddering. 
Then again there are seasons when I can sweetly feel that, 
come life, come death, " I know that my Redeemer liveth;" 
and I believe that He will cause me to triumph over death, 
and to exclaim: "Oh! grave where is thy victory? Oh! 
death where is thy sting ? ' ' Now, dear cousin, I have 
written just a mere hint of my trials. It may not be the expe- 
rience of the true child of God, but it is the truth ; and if I 
am found among those who are left without the gates of the 
Holy City, it is a just and holy God who decrees it. I am 
powerless to " add one cubit to my stature, or to make one 
hair white or black." You ask if I can lie down. Oh ! no ; 
I sit day and night on the edge of the lounge, with my swollen, 
deformed foot and limb in a vessel of cold water. I can 
recline a little on my right side, just for a few moments ; this 
is all the change I get. The weariness, the pain, the trial of 
my affliction, is beyond expression. Oh ! that it were all 
over, the last pain, the last dread scene forever past. Surely, 
beyond it all, beyond the grave, there will be rest and peace. 
Sometimes when I think of "the home over there," with 
Jesus forever present, evermore to behold His face, to wor- 
ship at His feet, to be in His likeness, to meet the dear 
prophets, apostles, dear father and mother, all the blood- 
bought throng, it fills me with rapture I cannot contain, and 
alone on my sick bed my lips speak forth His praise. Let us 
be patient, dear Ruth, all will be well after awhile ; it will not 
be long, at best, before, if our hope deceives us not, we shall 



Letters 167 

indeed mount up with wings as eagles ; we shall run and not be 
weary, we shall walk and not faint. There God shall wipe 
all tears from our eyes, and we shall have peace and rest 
and joy and gladness for evermore. May His wondrous love 
overshadow you, and His perfect love flow into your heart, 
casting out all fear. 

Write again and often, and, though most unworthy, I wish 
you to think of me as 

Your ever loving cousin, 

MARY PARKER. 



August 15, 1888. 
Dear Ruth : 

I can only write you a line. I have been greatly worse ever 
since the hot weather set in. * * * Oh ! when will the 
dear, glad summons come ? When will I see the dear, benign 
countenance of my well-beloved, and hear His voice saying : 
" Child, thy Father calls, come home? " Oh ! would it not 
be sweet, would it not be blessed to thus fall into His dear, 
everlasting arms, nevermore to suffer, never again to sin, to be 
sick, weary and so, so tired ; yet this wondrous joy will come, 

I and will be mine for evermore, if I be not a deceiver and am 
not deceived. 
Although my afflictions do not lessen, neither do God's 
mercies lessen, for they are new to me every morning. I am 
glad you have so many sweet gospel privileges, and that you 
are blest with the hearing ear and the understanding heart. 
April 29, 1889. 
Though so very weak and unfit to write I feel I must try 
to let you know that at least you have my love, my sympathy 
and prayers in your sorrow and bereavement. Yes, dear Ruth, 
I know all about the awful hush and stillness that fills the 
house, and our sorely-bereaved hearts, when the dear one lies 



1 68 Reminiscences and Letters 

silent and cold, with eyes closed, ears that no longer hear, 
and lips that no longer respond to a kind word, or a tender 
caress, yet if we are enabled by grace divine to look away 
from these trying scenes " unto the hills from whence cometh 
our help," how sweetly do we at once feel soothed, how ten- 
derly does the love of Him who is a father to the fatherless 
entwine itself about us, and uphold us with the strong, ever- 
lasting arms. My weak arm that would, oh ! so gladly, encir- 
cle you in your trying hour, is too weak to uphold you, too 
short to reach you; but God, who is your refuge and strength, 
is a very present help to you in your trouble. A wide space lies 
between you and me, which neither of us can pass over, save 
in a length of time ; but this dear Friend fills all space, and to 
His dear, everlasting arms I can alone point you. Casting 
all your burden on Him you will sweetly realize that He will 
sustain you. I am so glad your dear heart remembered and 
turned to me in your hour of trouble, though I feel, oh ! so 
keenly, my inability to comfort you. You were not out of 
mind a moment on the day of your father's burial; and espec- 
ially did my heart go out in prayer for you after the lay- 
ing away to rest, and the return to the silent, lonely house. 

Oh ! sister, do tell me all about yourself and your plans 
for the future. Since I wrote the letter which recently 
appeared in the Signs I have been very low. I would love to 
write more but am becoming so exhausted I cannot. May 
the God of all grace be your comfort and stay. 



September 12, 1890. 

I think of you often, if I am silent, and never tire of 
looking at the pretty, delicate glass, with its tiny " forget-me- 
nots," and its delicate design, and as often as I look at it I 
think of you. It is twilight and I am alone. How solemn 






Letters 169 

seems the stillness, how lovely the rosy, delicate sunset glow 
that still lingers in the west, where the sun sank out of sight. 
When my thoughts take a backward range, and view the past 
of even one day, how regretful I feel ; how unsatisfactory is the 
very best act or motive that has actuated me ; and the words 
the Psalmist used seem the most fitting prayer I can offer : 
" Cleanse -thou me from secret faults." The heart seems such 
a sink of sin, the motives by which my entire being seems 
actuated appear so selfish that I feel that away down in the 
heart there must be numerous faults I do not see ; but the eye 
of the Holy One sees all ; and so not only does the Publican's 
prayer fit our case, but also David's : " Cleanse thou me from 
secret faults," comes to us, as though it arose from our hearts 
alone. 

Last Monday I had the hardest and longest attack of 
suffocation I ever had. Some Baptist people called to see me, 
and I had them come into my room, and in a low whisper 
tried to speak words of welcome. I soon became so bad 
they all withdrew from the room, and oh ! the anguish I 
suffered on account of the labored breathing. The violent 
throbbing of the heart was too intense to be described. I could 
not see the dear ones again, which gave me great sorrow. It 
is wonderful, indeed, how much I am made to endure and yet 
live on and on. Oh ! that it would please the dear Father to 
call me home. Yet I desire to not only say, but desire, that 
His will be done. 

Remember me in Jove to your sister and Sister Lawshe. 
Lovingly, 

MARY. 



1 70 Reminiscences and Letters 

New Holland, O., Jan. 2, 1888. 

Elder S. H. Durand : 

Very Dear Brother in Christ : 

Your dear, kind letter came duly to hand. No 
words of mine can express the comfort and satisfaction it 
gave me. The kindness of the act itself of writing to one 
from whom you could expect no answer in return, or if you 
should have an answer one that would prove so poor a recom- 
pense for your trouble, naturally awakens my gratitude and 
admiration. Living a life of almost utter isolation from the 
people who love and speak the language I understand and so 
dearly love, to receive epistles of Christian fellowship and love 
from any of the dear people of God is a comfort and blessing 
to me the rarest, the most choice, the most to be prized of 
anything that comes to me in my afflicted, isolated t life. 
Years have come and gone since my dear father was taken 
home to dwell with Jesus and the holy angels in the abode of 
the blessed, but I have not ceased to mourn his loss or to miss 
the spiritual counsel he was so willing and able to give. 

The words of approval, of kindly encouragement your 
letter contained came to me as "oil upon troubled waters," 
and I thank you so much for writing them. You say you are 
glad I am having my letters put in a volume. But / am not 
having it done. The work was undertaken by my friends 
without any thought or desire on my part. I do assure you, 
my brother, I could not be so presuming as to wish to lay 
before the public anything so imperfect as my letters are. It 
was not until I was importuned again and again by Sister 
Mattie Thomas, of Indiana, that I gave my permission to have 
her undertake the work. Her health giving way entirely, I 
thought it had fallen through with, when I learned that it had 
been taken up by a dear, intimate friend of mine in Ohio, 
Sister Frankie McNaughten, who had it in the hands of the 






Letters 171 

publisher before I had time to offer any resistance. She is a 
lady of education and culture, and of excellent judgment, yet I 
greatly fear her affection for me has allowed her to overlook 
faults in my letters that to others will appear most glaring. I 
was too ill all summer to think or even care about the work, and 
it has been completed as utterly without my oversight as your 
own. I have not seen the book ; but since I hear of its com- 
pletion a feeling of humiliation has possessed me that nothing 
but fervent prayer, and the reading of the dear Master's 
words can soothe or quiet. Do you ever feel ashamed and 
humiliated on reading your productions, or after you have 
made the effort to speak in the dear Master's name ? I con- 
sider all who write or speak for the comfort of His people, and 
the honor and glory of His dear name, as servants, into whose 
mouths He puts His precious truth. All are alike dependent 
upon the one inexhaustible fountain-source. The most 
powerful, learned and eloquent preacher is just as dependent 
as I, who, if I have any gift at all, have one so small as scarce 
to be perceptible. But if the dear Master has seen fit to give 
me even the " one talent," am I not just as much in duty 
bound to make proper use of it, instead of hiding it, as you, 
my brother, to whom so much is given? Being so deeply 
troubled a few evenings ago, I prayed earnestly that I might 
find comfort in the blessed word to relieve me of the awful 
weight and shame I felt on account of my imperfect letters 
being given to the public. The book opened of itself to the 
twenty-fifth chapter of Matthew, and on reading the parable 
of the talents I felt oh ! so sweetly soothed and comforted. 
They seemed like words spoken specially to me, and I felt 
willing to allow my letters to go out among the Lord's 
afflicted people, no matter if it did wound my pride to have 
anything so personal, so open to criticism, go out into the 
world. Surely if one of God's little ones can receive one 
morsel of comfort from them I ought to feel well repaid. My 



172 



Reminiscences and Letters 



affliction has become a part of myself, and when I write, 
especially to those who know of its severity, I am prone to 
make much ado about it ; to see this in print is exceedingly 
mortifying, yet when I consider that it is all in our dear family, 
our Father's household, and when I remember how much 
comfort I have had from the description you and your late 
brother James gave of his sickness, I try to think perhaps the 
dear Master has a purpose in this also ; to bring comfort to 
some poor soul, who, like myself, is sorely afflicted. Do you 
think I view the matter rightly, dear brother, or do you fear 
our dear people will be mortified on my account ? 

Tell dear little Edith the sick woman was pleased to learn 
of her sympathy, " and to have baby Mildred's kiss." Dear 
little Edith's heart is young to ache at the recital of human 
suffering. 

I want to be remembered in much love to your wife and 
sister Bessie. Desiring to be remembered in your prayers, 
and wishing you all a very happy New Year, I close. 

MARY PARKER. 



Mrs. Vine Loofbourrow : 

My Beloved Sister and Valued Friend of my Youth : 

With what a mingling of sad and pleasurable emo- 
tions was my mind swayed as I opened your dear letter, read 
the sweet, soothing words of Christian fellowship and love 
and found that, poor and unworthy and insignificant as I am, 
I had been made the recipient of your sympathy and generous 
charity. "Faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest 
of these is charity," says the Apostle. In this instance I 
believe the Apostle means love more than mere giving. But 
what greater evidence can be manifested by the child of grace 
that he is in possession of the love of Christ than a desire to 
give to the helpless and afflicted. Oh ! may His dear love 



Letters 173 

flow richly into your heart on this Christmas morn, may you 
by faith behold the babe of Bethlehem as the Messiah, and 
recognize in Him your Saviour and Redeemer, and with one 
of old say, "Mine eyes have seen thy salvation ! " Oh! is it 
any wonder that those "wise" men of the East; after many 
days of travel, were exceeding glad when they saw the star, 
and that they laid their rich treasures at the feet of this won- 
derous babe? How it chastens one's soul to trace the foot- 
steps of this dear one, "meek and lowly in heart," born in a 
stable ; his childhood spent amid poverty and want ; in His 
manhood scoffed at and derided, and called a gluttonous 
man and a wine-bibber ; later on mocked, spit upon, crowned 
with thorns, and forced to carry the heavy cross until He fell 
beneath its weight. See him, too, in the Garden of Geth- 
semane, sweating as it were great drops of blood, in anguish 
more deep than human tongue ever could utter, crying, 
" Father, if it be possible let this cup pass," yet in holy 
submission saying, "Thy will, not mine, be done." And 
then upon the cruel cross, nails driven through the tender 
hands, thorns piercing the dear, beloved forehead, suffering all 
those three long hours, and then saying, " My God ! my God ! 
why hast thou forsaken me?" Then at the very last to say, 
"It is finished ! " Oh ! would it not melt a heart of stone? 
What was it He had finished? The work His Father gave 
Him to do, the saving of His people from their sins by giving 
His life for them. 

" Oh ! for such love, let rocks and hills 
Their lasting silence break." 

Wonderful, indeed, is a love that will make such a sacri- 
fice. But wonder of wonders does it seem, when we apply it 
to ourselves, when we read that Jesus, whose name is " called 
Wonderful, Counsellor, the mighty God, the everlasting 
Father, the Prince of Peace," suffered all this to redeem poor 



174 Reminiscences and Letters 

sinners. We do not so much wonder as we view the church as 
a whole ; but to think that we, who seem as nothing in His 
sight, should have an interest in. His blood, should be par- 
takers of so glorious an inheritance ! It all exceeds our com- 
prehension, and seems wonderful beyond expression. Oh, 
the blessedness of His love ! Sweeter to the needy and the 
hungry poor than honey or the honey comb. Often upon 
my bed of pain do I ask myself, if I really know anything 
about His love, if ever I have tasted of its sweetness, or felt 
its power in saving and cleansing my poor, sin-polluted soul. 
What was it that caused a light, softer, more brilliant than 
the rays of the setting sun, to shine about me when I first 
found peace, and which now sometimes manifests itself when 
in anguish I pour out my soul to Him, if not His wondrous 
ove? Oh! surely it is Jesus who speaks, " Peace be still," 
when the pain and sorrow beat so heavily upon my frail bark, 
and I, with bitter anguish, cry, " Lord save or I perish !" 
And it is surely His divine love and power that make my 
almost unbearable affliction bearable, and cause me by faith 
to look beyond it all to the land of never-ending peace and 
rest, where my sin-stained, weary feet shall soon stand. In 
that sinless home, dear sister, you and I will meet never more 
to part. Most truly do you say that life is not what we would 
like it to be. All is confusion and turmoil here. But did not 
Jesus say, " In the world ye shall have tribulation, but in me 
ye shall have peace ? ' and oh, how sweet His peace is when it 
comes flowing into the soul. Last night, all the long night, I 
was in so much pain, pain of body, anguish and sorrow of 
soul. But this afternoon the goodness of God seems so 
sweetly made manifest, Jesus seems so near, so precious to 
my soul, there seems to be so much love and unity between 
His people and Himself, that my soul seems sweetly uplifted, 
and my heart goes out in praise to His name, and in love to 
His people everywhere. 



Letters 175 

I have indeed, as Mrs. Haney told you, been exeedingly 
ill. The life-current in my poor, pain-racked body runs very 
low at times. I feel that I am brought down to the very brink 
of the silent river. But I do not fear, for surely Jesus will go 
with me even there. His rod and His staff will comfort me. 
I seem only awaiting the glorious appearing of my Lord and 
Saviour. He has verified His promises to me in this life ; He 
will not fail me at last ; and though my "waiting time" seems 
long and tedious, yet it will ere long all be over, and the freed 
soul will then enjoy in all its fullness the love of Him that 
w filleth all in all." 

Please accept my heart-felt thanks for your Christmas 
gift. So many sweet Christmas tokens have come to my sick- 
room, and, notwithstanding the severity of my pain, I am so 
happy in the unbounded love and care of my precious Saviour, 
and the love and kindness and sweet fellowship of His dear 
people. 

Sincerely and affectionately your friend and, I hope, 
sister in Christ. 

MARY PARKER. 



New Holland, O., May 25, 1890. 
Mrs. Sarah Boyd, 

Dear Sister in Christ : 

Sitting here alone in my sick room, striving to still 
the ceaseless, terrible pain which racks body and mind long 
enough to at least write a line to you, thoughts like this arise 
in my mind ; "How can any one care to get a letter from 
such a bundle of imperfection and sin as you are ; " and 
such a sense of my utter unworthiness to occupy a place in 
the affections and esteem of any of the Lord's dear children 
comes over me as I cannot describe. But who ever finds any 



176 Reminiscences and Letters 

satisfaction in looking at self, especially if they have been 
brought to feel the "exceeding sinfulness of sin," and to know 
the plague of their own deceitful heart ? It was kind of you 
to write again to me ; after having written once before and 
getting no response. I remember well when I received your 
former letter, as well as much of its contents, but I was very 
ill at the time. 

I sympathize with you in the troubles that hang over your 
life \ but a stronger hand must help you. A mightier power 
than we controls the events of life, and metes out to each of 
us the "mixture of joy and sorrow" which He designed for 
us. We know that each portion which comes to us, be it bitter 
or sweet, helps to make up the " all things ■" which work 
together for our good. We can not often see the sunshine 
through the dark cloud, yet it does shine, nevertheless ; and 
for every heaven-born child the Sun of Righteousness will shine 
throughout time and eternity. Our dear Eld. Durand paid 
me the promised visit. He came " in the fulness of the bless- 
ing of the gospel of Christ." Years of pain had passed over 
me, until at least ten were numbered, since I had listened to 
the sweet story of Jesus and His love, told by one of his dear 
servants, and the " certain sound " of the gospel trumpet fell 
as sweetest music on my ears, and my hungry soul was filled 
with satisfying food. So long as life lasts I will look back to 
this sweet "Bethel" in my life, and raise an anthem of praise 
to the Lord for thus having regarded the low estate of His 
hand-maiden, in sending one of His ministering servants to tell 
me the glad, sweet story, and to cause me to "joy in the Lord, 
and to rejoice in God, my Saviour. ' ' Oh ! if I could at all times 
lay aside the many weights, and the sin which doth so easily 
beset me, and look oftener to Jesus, dear Jesus, the author 
and finisher of my faith; if I could oftener " mount up with 
wings as eagles," and " run and not weary, and walk and not 
faint," how much lighter would seem the burdens that so weigh 



Letters 177 

me down, and how much easier it would be to wait all the days 
of my appointed time, till my change come. "The spirit, 
indeed, is willing, but the flesh is weak." The spirit is willing 
to suffer all things, the pain, the sorrow, the disappointments 
and heart-aches. It would " put on charity which is the bond 
of perfectness ;" but the law of sin that is in our members is a 
hindrance in everything, and, try as we may, long as we may, 
" we can not do the things that we would," which causes us to 
cry, "Oh ! wretched man that I am ; who shall deliver me from 
the body of this death? " Who, indeed, but Christ Jesus our 
Lord ? Is it not a comfort to read that even the dear, inspired 
apostle was brought just where you and I are brought, even to 
the feet of Jesus ? I did not think I would have strength to 
write this much, as for the last ten days I have been much 
worse. How often am I made to cry, " How long, O Lord ! 
how long ? O come, Lord Jesus, come and call Thy weary 
child home." 

Your sister in Christian love, v 

MARY PARKER. 



[Extracts from letters to Dr. and Mrs. B. F. Coulter, 
Philadelphia, Pa.] 

New Holland, Pickaway County, Ohio. 
Dear and Much Esteemed Brother in Christ : 

I owe you an answer to the very interesting and welcome 
letter which you were so good as to send me some weeks ago. 
But while on the one hand I feel a desire to answer your letter, 
on the other hand, I have such a crushing and painful sense 
of my inability to do so, that I shrink from making the 
attempt. For some time past, I have not only felt unusually 
" shut up " in soul, but have been bowed down with a sense 
of my sinfulness. Oh, what a busy, wary enemy Satan is. 



178 Reminiscences and Letters 

There seems no place under the natural sun where he cannot 
bring his Satanic wiles to bear against those who desire to 
worship the living God alone. Here upon my bed of pain, 
shut out from the world, safe, it would seem, from his fiery 
darts, his wicked trail may be seen and felt. At a time 
and place, where I least expect it, he casts his fiery darts. 
"Behold," says Jesus to Peter, " Satan hath desired to have 
thee, that he may sift thee as wheat ; but I have prayed for 
thee, that thy faith fail not." I wonder if Satan does not 
desire to have every one of the lowly followers of the dear, 
meek Nazarene. Yet, if we be really and truly " rooted and 
grounded in Him," we know that none shall pluck us out of 
His hand ; for does he not say, " thou art graven on the 
palms of my hands? " Thus hope, sweet hope, rises like a 
beautiful and shining beacon light above all our fears. 
Armed with the preparation of the blessed gospel, we are 
enabled to lift up our bowed heads and say, "get thee 
behind me Satan," and to overcome all the powers of Satan 
and the world that are brought to bear against us. Just here 
election comes in as a blessed stronghold, for how could hope 
point us to any light if we did not hope and trust that we 
were one of the elect, one among those " who were chosen 
in Him before the foundation of the world ? ' ' What a sure 
foundation the believer has on which to build " the good 
hope through grace." What a safe harbor in which to rest 
from the roaring billows that beat upon our trembling bark, 
from the world, the flesh and Satan. " Lead me to the rock 
that is higher than I," says the Psalmist. The precious Rock, 
out of which flow rivers of living water. The fountain 
opened to the house of David for sin and for uncleanness. To 
the poor, sin-polluted soul, sick of its own leprous disease, 
weary of self and of the filthy rags of self righteousness, 
stripped of all good, whither can it flee, but to this eternal 
rock for safety? To whom can it go for pity and help, but 



Letters 179 

to Him, who bids the weary and heavy laden come to him 
and find rest ? Oh ! the fullness, the sweetness of the 
blessed gospel promises. Sometimes, amid all the changing 
scenes of my changeful, tempest-tossed life, I seem to 
catch a faint glimpse of the beauties of holiness through a 
glass darkly, and my cold, hard heart seems animated and 
warmed with a little of the glow and warmth that I trust is 
reflected from the rays of the sun of righteousness, and I feel 
something of the " healing in its wings " applied to my poor, 
sinsick soul. A little while before day dawn, this morning, I 
awoke from one of my brief, unrefreshing slumbers, feeling a 
burden of soul that seemed too heavy to bear, when these 
words came quickly into my mind ; " Draw nigh to God 
and He will draw nigh to thee." "Cast thy burden upon 
the Lord and He will sustain thee." I felt that I had 
neglected to seek the Lord as diligently as I should ; I had 
been indifferent to his word, cold in prayer, neglectful of 
going to Him with the simple trust and faith of a little child ; 
hence the crushing weight that so bore me down. Oh ! to 
have Jesus for a friend, to hide in the rock that is higher than 
I ; to go to Him with every heartache, and all our woes, and 
find underneath us His dear, everlasting arms. Is it not 
wonderfully precious and sweet ? 

Trusting you will be so good as to write again to me, 
desiring to be remembered to sister Coulter and all the dear, 
dear saints in Philadelphia, I am, unworthily, your sister in 
affliction and trial, 

MARY PARKER. 



December 31, 1890. 
Very Dear Brother and Sister : 

I am reminded that only to-morrow and the old year, with 
all its events, will have passed forever away, and will have 
glided into another, to us unknown, untried year. Truly, 



1 80 Reminiscences and Letters 

" swift as a weaver's shuttle speed the years," and time, with 
its ceaseless, rolling wheels, is hurrying us along with it to the 
final end. Does it not almost startle one, sometimes, when in 
silent meditation we watch the ceaseless tick of the clock, 
and realize that each brief second takes along with it so much 
of this life, and that from the very moment life begins, we 
begin to go down to the grave, the end and final resting place 
of all humanity? Yet the child of God, sick of self and sin, 
deeply realizing that this life is but a vain show, and that all 
is vanity, can truly say with Job, " I loathe it, I would not 
live alway." And we are deeply thankful that away beyond 
the shifting scenes of life, beyond the clouds, the doubts, and 
struggles against Satan and sin there is a haven of eternal rest, 
where Jesus, who is at the right hand of God, is as willing 
as he is able to save all who come unto God by Him. Dear 
brother and sister, I can hardly myself tell why, but the dear 
saints whose acquaintance I have made through the medium of 
the pen in your city, are inexpressibly near and dear to me, 
and many times during the day, and the long, tiresone nights, 
I have you all in tender remembrance. Some weeks ago my left 
limb, which for several months had been discharging at least a 
gallon of water in twenty-four hours, suddenly ceased to dis- 
charge, both limbs inflamed and swelled until they looked as 
though they had been in boiling water, and pained and burned 
just as if they had. My entire body, neck and face became 
swollen and distorted almost beyond recognition. One long, 
hard chill would succeed another, and the pain and distress 
were indescribable. After a little over a week, blisters formed 
on the feet and limbs, and they began again to discharge. 
But the dripping is still too scant to give me the relief I so 
much need. I am in almost constant agony. If I can keep 
my body perfectly free from motion, I suffer less; but 
when I move about the pain is so great I scarce can bear 
it. I realize that only a mere breath or turn of the hand would 



Letters 181 

break the frail chain that binds me to earth. Surely 1 cannot 
stay here until the coming of another Christmas-time. But 
in that bright world, to which my spirit turns with anxious 
yearning, will not the star of Bethlehem shine with resplen- 
dent lustre, and will not this same Jesus, this Blessed Messiah, 
who for our sakes suffered the ignominious death of the cross, 
take us into the bosom of His love, Himself wipe away all 
tears from our eyes, and clothe us in spotless robes, " Our 
house which is from heaven?" Oh, the blessed, blessed 
thought ! I often wonder, if the twenty-fifth day of December 
is indeed the birth-time of Christ, why it is spent in the indul- 
gences of the natural appetites, and in festivities ; and why 
even the Lord's children do not move softly on that day. Yet 
the Lord and Master told us to do nothing in commemoration 
of His birth, but to commemorate His death in the breaking 
of bread, and the drinking of the fruit of the vine. Christ- 
mas day was very quiet in my sick room. A heavy snowfall 
set in at early dawn and continued the entire day. I some- 
times think amid all my pain I have more to be thankful to 
my dear Master for than any other creature. But oh ! when 
I can only lie back on my pillows, oblivious to every- 
thing save the awful pain, unable to think, read or pray, or 
hear of the compassionate Saviour, then how dark everything 
becomes. No Bible, no praying, no sense (only just through 
a glass, O, so darkly) of the dear Saviour's presence and love. 
Oh ! then it is that this awful life becomes scarcely bearable, 
and the promise that He is with me even unto death, is almost 
lost sight of. Pray for me, will you really ? and oh ! do be 
patient with me ; do not tire of me : and write me your dear, 
soothing letters, when amid the toil and rush of your busy, 
useful life you find time. 

Truly, affectionately yours, 

MARY PARKER. 



1 8 2 Reminiscences and L etters 

February 8, 1891. 
My Dear Brother in Christ Jesus : 

From the parlor just across the hall, soft sweet notes of 
music are issuing. My niece is playing some minor air, and as 
its delicious melody is wafted to me, so like a breath of per- 
fumed summer air, my soul seems stirred with varied, uplifting 
emotions. Life seems really full of many beautiful and enjoy- 
able things, and many delicious drops of sweet nectar are 
dropped into the cup of our earthly life, along with its bitter- 
ness, sorrow and woes. It seems to me that nearly all the 
good in our life here, the reaching out of the soul after the 
pure, the bright, the beautiful, is like the beginning of an 
endless rivulet that will flow on throughout time and eternity ; 
and that it is so interlinked with the life to come, that it will 
not stop with the laying down of the body, but that it will 
flow onward and upward into that ceaseless river of eternal 
life in the world without end. If music sung with earthly 
tongues, played upon instruments of wood, is so delightful to 
one's soul, what will be the music of redeeming love, sung by 
angel voices, played upon harps of gold. Then shall we have 
put off all these filthy habiliments that so grieve and annoy 
the soul, and shall be " clothed upon with our house which is 
from heaven. ' ' The weary soul shall bathe in seas of heavenly 
rest, and with all the redeemed that have gone before, join in 
the song of Moses and the Lamb. " Great and marvelous 
are thy works, Lord God Almighty; just and true are thy 
ways, thou King of Saints." Sinful and unworthy as I know 
I am, feeling the while that I am "black as the tents of 
Kedar," through faith in God's blessed promises, Brother 
Coulter, I cannot help looking forward with anxious, eager 
delight to the time when the veil will at last be lifted or 
removed, and when I shall enjoy these beautiful things in all 
their fullness, and when, having awakened with the likeness 
of the divine Redeemer, I shall sweetly realize that " in His 



Letters 183 

presence there is fullness of joy, and at His right hand there are 
pleasures forevermore." In your last letter you spoke of how 
you were fed, and your soul elated, with the beauties presented, 
as the scriptures unravelled themselves while you were writing 
upon them, and the revulsion of feeling that came over you 
when you attempted afterward to partake largely of the same 
delicious food from the perusal of your writings. You said 
that it was because you had eaten, you were already fed, 
already satisfied with food and drink. How often I have 
experienced just such trouble, but it had not occurred to me 
to view it in that way. It is nearly always the case with me, 
as the sweet honey flowed into the earthen vessel, my soul has 
been made to rejoice in the God of my salvation while writ- 
ing, but when I would attempt to read what I had written, 
there was a revulsion, an utter loathing, just as one cannot 
partake of more food, no matter how delicious, after the appe- 
tite had been satiated. Your interpretation of the subject 
greatly comforted me. Does it not remind you of the 
"manna" that fell for the Israelites, which was so delicately 
delicious when fresh, but which became obnoxious if left over 
and tasted the next day ? I have often thought of it in the 
same light, that it was the same way with the heavenly manna. 
It is not the case, though, after we have feasted on the rich 
food as it is handed down by the undershepherds, which, after 
a time will be very delicious, when we go back (in retrospec- 
tion) and take up basketsful of fragments. How often when 
we are hungering and thirsting for spiritual food, and our hope 
dwindles, we think, to almost nothing, have our minds 
recurred to some beautiful, comforting sermon we have 
listened to, and hope revives. We are fed and comforted, and 
we thus gather great " baskets " of food from the fragments. 
Your pictures are a great comfort to me. I have had many 
precious visits with my dear Philadelphia friends in the silence 
of the night, when there was no sound of a human voice or 



184 Reminiscences and Letters 

foot-fall ; nothing to be seen, nothing heard, save the distant 
howl of the watchdog, and the fierce outcry of some great 
owl, whose solemn notes only added to the deep loneliness ; 
then I would look at you all, and hold sweet communion with 
you amid all my pain. Oh ! what a blessed privilege to be able 
to know and love you through the medium of the pen. Best 
of all is the sweet hope that we shall meet face to face, and 
love each other in the happy home on high, and that we shall 
walk hand in hand in the New Jerusalem above. O, brother 
Coulter, it does seem, at times, I cannot endure the painful 
throbbing of the sores, the weight, the sickness, the difficult 
respiration and the long, almost endless, weary nights, to be 
succeeded by weary days, and other weary nights. Nothing 
to look to for help, but only to gain strength through fervent, 
intense prayer. And often when I just fall helplessly at His 
feet, clinging alone to Him, rest, sweet rest, and ease and sub- 
mission are given. Oh ! it is very, very wonderful. Write 
often ; write just as you feel. Such words are given you as I 
seem particularly to need. 

Affectionately your sister, 

MARY PARKER. 



Mrs. Margaret Craven. 

My Dear Mother in Israel : 

I was made very happy yesterday on receiving a pack- 
age containing a dear letter from you, and also your picture. 
How glad I am, dear mother, to be introduced to you through 
our dear brother Coulter. It seems to me but another pre- 
cious jewel added to my rich store, but another link in the 
indissoluble chain binding me to my blessed Redeemer. 
What a sweet, rare privilege it is to be able to speak often 
one to another through the medium of the pen, even though 
we cannot see and speak face to face. I have been the recipi- 



Letters 185 

cnt of so many beautiful letters, rich with the outpourings of 
the Holy Spirit, and notwithstanding the severity with which 
my poor body is racked with pain, I never before was so 
happy in the love of my precious Saviour, and the love shed 
abroad in the hearts of His people, the fullness of which 
" filleth all in all," and emanating from the great fountain 
source, it flows like a peaceful, mighty river throughout the 
lower courts of Zion, dear Zion, the seat and city of our 
King, who reigns in the beauty of holiness. Your picture is 
lying on my desk beside me, and each moment, as I rest and 
look up from my paper, your motherly countenance beams 
upon me in maternal affection, it seems to me. I have been so 
long sick, I feel much like a little helpless child, and with a 
child's hunger and longing, I long to take your hand, and with 
its kind touch on my weary brow, hear you speak such sooth- 
ing words as only the mother's heart can feel. Oh ! I am a 
great sufferer ; how great none can know ; my own tongue 
cannot tell. My arms, my hands, my feet, my limbs, and 
anywhere that there is any pressure or weight against the flesh, 
there are painful sores. But the dear Lord has never failed to 
strengthen me upon my bed of languishing, nor taken from 
under me the dear, everlasting arms. Brother C. writes me 
that you, too, are always in delicate health. You have my 
heartfelt sympathy. May the Lord bless you is the prayer of 
your unworthy sister, 

MARY PARKER. 



May 30, 1890. 
Mr. E. B. Walton ; 

My Dear Brother : 

I would have tried to acknowledge the receipt of 
your excellent letter before this, had it not been for pain and 
weakness of body, which made it impossible for me to do the 
things T longed so greatly to do. I have had two of my bad 



1 86 Reminiscences and Letters 

attacks since I received your letter, and was brought very low, 
both in body and mind. It is marvelous, indeed, how much 
my poor, suffering body is made to endure. Surely the dear 
Lord sustains and upholds me by his mighty, reigning grace, 
or I could not endure the terrible waves of affliction that do 
cast their bitter, pitiless surges against me. I feel, sometimes, 
as though I am brought to the very brink of Jordan's stream ; 
that I can almost hear the water wash the shore, while angels 
voices beckon me to the other side, where all is joy and endless 
peace. At such times a sweet solemnity prevades my being, 
that nothing, not even the raging billows of disease and earthly 
trial, can very greatly disturb. Even nature in all its glory 
and beauty, even the golden light of the king of day, seems 
touched with the magic wand of decay, and over everything is 
a voice crying, "what is life? It is but a vapor that soon 
vanisheth away 5" and as the flower of the grass, soon shall 
we all pass away ; the richest, the noblest, the most intellec- 
tual, shall lie as low underneath the sod as the poorest, the 
most debased, the most ignorant. Truly man in his best state 
is but vanity. But the soul can never die. How solemn is the 
thought. "Black as the tents of Kedar" is the soul, unless it 
has been plunged in the fountain of that blood which alone 
can cleanse it from its blackness, and make it "whiter than 
snow. ' ' Can it be that I have had that precious blood applied 
to my sin-sick soul? Was its sin cleansing power ordained 
before the foundation of the world to save my poor soul from 
everlasting punishment ? I can only answer by the witness I 
trust I feel within, the evidence I have that His holy spirit 
communes with my spirit, the love I have for his people, the 
hating of what I once loved, the loving of what I at one time 
hated. But over all is the felt-sense of His dear, pardoning 
love as it comes unmerited and unbidden into my poor heart, 
causing me to cry with rapture, " my Lord, and my God ! " 
and in the midst of darkness and doubt, and fiery trials within 



Letters 187 

and without, to say, "I know that my Redeemer liveth." 
Not merely to say it but \.ofeel\\, in all the depth of its sweet- 
ness and meaning. It is said " flowers from pressure yield a 
sweeter perfume; " so I believe when the child of God is bowed 
down by affliction and trials too heavy of themselves to be 
borne, Jesus draws nearer, becomes more sensibly the Burden- 
bearer, and the sweet influence of His blessed grace, the rare 
perfume of His pardoning love, are more manifest. I feel to 
be the very poorest of the poor, the vilest of the vile, with sins 
that fill me with utter loathing of myself; yet in the burdens 
that come upon me, too heavy for mortal to bear, I feel sweetly 
the help and presence of this gracious Burden-bearer. He 
seems to dwell so near, to be such a very present help in all 
my trouble, that I really find no room at times to doubt. Yet 
I cannot praise Him as I would like, nor tell those about me, 
only in a most imperfect way, " what a dear Saviour I have 
found." 

Since I received your letter I have had a visit from Elder 
Durand, and the privilege of hearing him tell the "glad 
tidings of salvation to the poor." If I mistake not I was 
granted the hearing ear and the understanding heart, which 
we know are among the dear Master's choicest gifts. I ate 
until my soul was fed and comforted by the unadulterated 
food that was dealt to me by the dear under-shepherd ; and 
again and again do I go back and gather precious fragments 
left me from that bounteous repast. Oh ! surely I do love 
God's people. How I am enraptured to see them come, and 
sad when they go out from my sick-room to return no more, 
perhaps, forever. Elder Durand has done much for my temporal 
comfort, for which I feel to trust he will be blessed and rewarded. 
Please accept my warmest thanks, dear brother, for your kind 
and generous gift. In my severe affliction I know not what I 
should do, if it were not for the kindness of the house-hold of 
faith. 



1 88 Reminiscences and Letters 

Please remember me to the dear saints in Philadelphia, I 
will ever remember you as one who has given me the cup of 
cold water, which shall not go unblessed. Would love to hear 
again from you. 

In deep affection your unworthy sister, 

MARY PARKER. 



August 30, 1890. 
Dear Brother Walton and Sister Amy Barns ley : 

I owe you both a letter, and as I am not able at present 
to write two letters, I trust your goodness of heart will cause 
you to pardon me if I write you conjointly. I wrote to you 
once before, quite a long letter, and when nearly done fell to 
jerking, and let the letters fall into the vessel of water I am 
obliged to keep within reach to bathe my burning limbs in ; 
after such a misfortune I was too much fatigued to write again. 
It seems my condition becomes more and more painful and 
almost unbearable. But in my most painful condition I no 
longer look or hope for much respite from extreme suffering. 
Its effect upon the mind almost frightens me, as I note the 
deficiency of memory, the dullness of intellect, the utter ina- 
bility to meditate, or give expression to the few thoughts that 
flow into my poor brain, when I attempt to write. I think of 
you all very often. Your "little bundle of love," as you 
sweetly termed your church, sister Amy, is very dear to me. 
Deprived of going to the house of the Lord to worship with 
the saints anywhere, one branch of the dear, beloved body 
seems just as dear to me as another, when they "keep the 
unity of the spirit in the bond of peace." Truly does David 
say, "Behold how good and how pleasant it is for brethren 
to dwell together in unity." Wherever there is love there is 
unity ; wherever there is a lack of love, which is charity, there 



Letters 189 

is confusion. Weeks and months often pass by without hear- 
ing any of my kindred in Christ speak the language familiar 
to me, one that I can understand, whose music alone is sweet 
to my ear, and which has that certain sound which Paul speaks 
of in the 14th chapter of 1 Cor. You cannot know how lonely 
I feel, only when my inmost heart goes out to the " Lord's 
afflicted and poor people all over the land, and especially to 
those with whom I correspond. Sometimes when I read the 
inspired language of Paul, the eloquent outpourings of Isaiah, 
the sweet heavenly music that flowed from the heart of King 
David, my soul seems to hold communion with them, and I 
am so uplifted by the thought that in the great, sweet Beyond 
we shall be eternal heirs with those exalted spirits, if I am not 
clinging to a false hope. And how can that hope be false 
which is centered and stayed on the cross of Christ, when the 
true language of the soul is, 

" Nothing in my hands I bring, 
Simply to thy cross I cling." 

Having no one to talk to of my inward struggles, feeling 
so often cast down, so that I cannot even look toward Cal- 
vary's mount, when in my heart there is an aching void 
nothing can fill, I often feel, I think, as did Elijah when he 
told the Lord he alone was left of all the prophets. Not any 
of the good people here seem to feel poor, and ignorant, and 
helpless; for they speak of their ability as "workers," as 
" helpers," as givers of the most needful thing in saving souls, 
money. But I am destitute in every way ; then some dear 
brother or sister writes like you do, and oh ! how I am cheered, 
how I am comforted, how like delicious music falling upon 
the ear are the sweet sounds they send forth. How I am 
strengthened to know that the wisest have learned that there 
is no confidence to be put in the flesh, no good in our nature, 
no help in man ; and that vile and helpless and poor, we can 
only fall at the feet of Jesus and cry, " God be merciful to me 



190 Reminiscences and Letters 

a sinner.," Then comes into my mind these words, "All 
thy children shall be taught of the Lord, and great shall be the 
peace of thy children." Great indeed is the peace of the 
child of God, when stripped of all self-righteousness, he seeks 
that righteousness which is found in Christ Jesus. 

%. ^ % % % ;jc %. 

In the city of our God no sickness can come, no sorrow, 
no more thirst ; and there God shall wipe all tears from our 
eyes. How I long to enter that City, the fr.ir Jerusalem above, 
to go no more out forever. But I must wait the Master's 
time and call. 

Pray for me, dear brother, that I may wait patiently the 
appointed time. 

Your unworthy sister, 

MARY PARKER. 



From a letter to Mr. and Mrs. E. B. Walton, dated 
Sept. 24, 1890 : 

I think I have been made to feel the insufficiency of my 
own efforts, and that it were useless to undertake one step in 
my own strength ; but at no time do I feel more forcibly the 
truth of the blessed Saviour's words, " Without me ye can do 
nothing," than when I attempt to write or converse with those 
" who have been made wise unto salvation." I know that all of 
the Lord's children feel their weakness, and that when they think 
of the " depth of the wisdom and of the knowledge of God," 
they sink into insignificance in their own sight. But it is a 
positive fact, that in being taught the sweet gospel truths by 
the watchmen on Zion's walls, and in studying the scriptures, 
I in my sore affliction have less opportunity to obtain gospel 



Letters 



191 



knowledge, and to grow in grace, and " unto a perfect one in 
Christ Jesus," than almost any one else. During the mid- 
summer I could not read at all, and it was not until this week, 
brother Walton, that I read the "Signs," in which was your 
experience, brother Coulter's letter to Eld. Bundy, and a 
most able article on Predestination by brother Morgan, of 
Texas. If you did not read it, please do so. Brother Morgan 
has not been a Baptist long, is only twenty-one years old. Is 
it not marvelous the depth of knowledge his article evinces, 
brother Walton, I feel deeply grateful to you for your many 
kindnesses to me. Your letters, your generous gifts, have 
brought much sunshine into my dreary, darkened life. You 
all seem very near to me ; but until I read your experience I 
did not feel so like I had seen you face to face, and that heart 
had spoken to heart. How my heart swelled with emotion 
as I read of the deep sorrow and travel of your soul, of the 
bursting of the prison bands, and of the coming forth into the 
light and liberty of the gospel. 

How sweet, too, that your dear wife and you can go 
hand in hand "up the holy hill of Zion," that both have 
tasted the wormwood and the gall, and can now enjoy the 
luscious grapes of Eschol, with the milk and honey. 

I hear through sister Amy that you are convalescent, 
sister Walton. I do not hope to ever again take a single 
step j and so long as the painful life goes on it will be thus. 
But when I think of the Beyond, it is life everlasting, and 
eternal rest, and I am soothed and comforted. Remember me 
in love to all. 

Affectionately your sister, I hope, in Christ, 

MARY PARKER. 



1 92 Reminiscences and Letters 

[Extracts from recent letters to Mrs. Amy R. Barnsley, 
of Philadelphia.] 

June 6, 1890. 
My dear Sister in Christ : 

You said in your kind letter that you had no pretty, deli- 
cate language in which to clothe your thoughts. Neither have 
I ; neither, indeed, did the apostle Paul seem to think he had, 
or he would not have said, "I came not in excellency of 
speech, or of wisdom." But he came, thanks be to God, in 
what was infinitely better and of more value to his fellow trav- 
ellers and sufferers of the household of faith, in the wisdom 
and might and power of God, telling them the sweet story of 
Jesus and his love, in plainness of speech, so that the most 
ignorant and unlearned could understand its beauty and sweet- 
ness, as it flowed with such earnestness from the dear apostle's 
lips. I often think that the gospel of itself is so beautiful and 
grand that it needs no embellishing ; and that it is all the 
more beautiful and sweet when told simply, clothed in plain 
language. How strongly does one's heart go out in Christian 
love to the dear, valiant apostle Paul and other noble defend- 
ers and expounders of the blessed gospel of peace. As we read 
their soul-inspiring epistles, do not "our hearts burn within 
us " with the same holy fire ; and do we not feel, at the time, 
that we are with them and that soul responds to soul ? If we 
are so happy as, like Paul, to "fight the good fight, to finish our 
course," have we not the sweet, blessed hope within us that in 
the Jerusalem above we shall see and shall sit down with the 
dear apostles and with all the prophets ? And what gives me 
most joy of all is the blessed thought that we shall see Jesus, the 
same Jesus who ascended up on high, the same dear, lowly Naza- 
rene who suffered here that we might live,and who is now exalted 
at the right hand of God, having conquered all things and put 
all things under His feet. The thought that we shall fall asleep 
and awake in His likeness, is it not sweet, is it not wonderful 
beyond our poor finite powers to conceive or express ? 



Letters 193 

September, 1890. 

Your dear letter was very pleasant to me, sister Amy, and 
I thank you for your kindness in having sent it. How very 
good has been the dear Lord to me in carrying my burdens 
for me, in opening a way for my temporal needs to be sup- 
plied and in giving me the sympathy, the help and great kind- 
ness of so many of His beloved people. The evening mail 
brought to me a lovely letter from sister Bessie Durand, and 
one also from brother E. B. Walton. They came to me as 
" good news from a far country." The blessed truths they 
contained, the dear, encouraging words they both spoke, came 
into my desolate life like the refreshing dew, and was "sweeter 
than honey and the honey comb. ' ' They caused my soul to 
" mount up with wings as eagles," and for a few brief moments, 
at least, I seemed to stand upon the mount as did Moses, 
where the beauties of the fair, promised land stretched in 
unsurpassed beauty and loveliness before me, and I trust I was 
given a sweet foretaste of the purple grapes of Eschol, and 
the pleasant fruits that grow on the borders of that fair land, 
while the milk and honey flowed sweetly into the soul. But 
as the heavenly manna, which fell every day for the children 
of Israel, would not keep over until another day, so the 
sweet incense and delicious fragrance of these happy foretastes 
and feastings of the soul will not abide with us, so that we 
can tell of it in all its beauty and fullness ; and though my 
soul enjoyed a bounteous feast last night, my heart seems 
barren and cold to-day; though I would gladly share my 
soul's pleasant repast with you, my dear young sister, the 
broken vessel seems empty, the pleasant fruits have faded from 
sight and I feel that I have no sweet, gospel food to offer you. 
Oh ! how helpless we are without the divine help. What 
empty, broken vessels, unless our blessed Master keeps pour- 
ing in the wine and the oil. 



194 Reminiscences and Letters 

Elder Durand told me that you had but recently been 
brought into the fold of Christ. The apostle tells us to 
think it not strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try 
us, " for the trial of your faith is more precious than of gold 
that perisheth." I trust that He, under whose wings you have 
come to trust, may be pleased to lead you gently, tenderly 
along ; that He may ever shield your footsteps from the thorns 
that so pierce us by the way, and land you safely in the haven 
of eternal rest. 

I did not know, until you informed me, that Elder 
Staton is your pastor. I am sure he is a very kind under- 
shepherd, who will be very tender with the tiniest lambs, of 
whom there are many in the great Shepherd's dear flock. How 
good that He carries such in the dear bosom of his love, 
when they cannot walk alone, healing all their bruises, bind- 
ing up their wounds and Himself wiping their tears away. No 
wonder that to all such the name of Jesus sounds so sweet 
that it 

" Soothes their sorrows, heals their wounds 
And drives away their fears." 



October 12, 1890. 

You, dear sister, with your precious Church privileges, 
enabled to meet around the Lord's table, to enjoy the fer- 
vent hand-clasp of your spiritual kindred, hear their familiar 
voices, and sit with them in "heavenly places in Christ 
Jesus," whilst the undershepherd tells the " old, old story," 
which is ever new, ever sweet, and which bears on its zephyr- 
like wings, not only " peace on earth, good will toward 
men," but also "good tidings of great joy" — you can 
scarce know the dreariness of one whose feet are also turned 
Zionward, but who is deprived of such choice blessings. Then, 



Letters 195 

too, you have your sweet home-duties with their endearing, 
ennobling influences. The love of your devoted husband, of 
your sweet little household pet ; the affection of your brothers 
and sister, and the devotion of your self-sacrificing mother ; 
a ll these blessings encircle your life like a band of gold, 
bringing into it much fragrance and bloom, and, it would 
seem, leave little room for " thorns amid your roses," were 
it not for your delicate, uncertain health. 



April, 1 89 1. 

I was delirious when the evening mail came in last night, 
and your dear letter was laid on the stand near my couch. 
Here I found it in the stillness of the night, and its contents 
were as a cooling draught to a thirsty soul. 

Oh, the love of our dearest Lord and Saviour S How 
sweet to feel ourselves being encircled by His love, which 
provides a spotless robe of righteousness which hides ail our 
blackness and sin, and covers us as the snow now covers the 
earth. Dear sister, I cannot tell you how very thankful I am to 
the dear Lord for having spared to you your dear mother, and 
raised her up from her bed of languishing. How you are 
blessed in having your mother spared to you thus far on the 
toilsome journey of life. Oh, it seems so long since I felt 
the soothing, gentle touch of my dear mother's hand or heard 
her endearing words. Only in memory and in my dreams 
do my beloved parents come to me. I was so glad to see 
the names of dear brothers Coulter and Walton in the last 
" Signs." Amid the rush of business, the mingling with the 
world, it is marvelous how their minds are so stayed on the 
Lord. 

In devoted love, I am your friend and sister, 

MARY PARKER. 



if) 6 Reminiscences and Letters 

[Extracts from letters written to Mr. and Mrs. John 
M'Connell, of Philadelphia.] 

Under date of October 5, 1890, she writes : 
My Dear Brother in Christ : 

I desire very much to write you this morning, but find my 
hand trembles and jerks so I don't know that I shall be able 
to write at all legibly. 

This is a dark, gloomy Sunday morning, with a close 
oppressive atmosphere, and low, overhanging clouds, that are 
dropping slow, drizzling rain. Although I delight in autumnal 
weather, with its soft, mellow sunlight, its pleasant breezes, 
its rich and varied tints, yet a day like this causes one to feel 
with the poet, that autumn days, like this, are " the saddest of 
the year. ' ' My people have gone to their place of worship. 
They often laughingly remark as they shut me in, that I can't 
run away or get into mischief. For it is years since I stood 
on my feet or took a step. It is terrible to suffer hunger or 
thirst and be powerless to move. Once since I have been 
helpless a coal of fire fell from the grate when I was alone. I 
tried to throw water from my couch but failed to extinguish 
the fire. I could not even crawl, and the smoke and fright 
soon caused me to sink down unconscious. My brother, who 
had been to the country, came just in time to save my life and 
the house. It was a terrible experience, one I never shall 
forget. 

Brother McConnell, I cannot tell you how pleased I am 
with my precious little book of Psalms, with its elegant flexi- 
ble binding. I read in it so much during sleepless nights. 
* * When my very soul seems overwhelmed within me 
because of the sins and inward corruptions that come like 
a thick cloud between me and the light of the Divine 
Redeemer, when I come into deep waters, where the floods 
overflow me, that sweet passage about our love for the breth- 
ren will enable me to lift up " the hands that hang down," 






Letters 197 

and has sometimes strengthened " the feeble knees," when 
nothing else would. Oh ! may His love fall like distilling 
dew into your chastened, contrite heart, my dear brother ; 
may your weary hands be lifted up, may darkness and doubt 
flee away, and the spring-time of your soul appear, when the 
singing of birds shall be heard, and you be made to rejoice 
with joy unspeakable. This is my wish, my prayer for you ; 
for I know that your soul was " exceeding sorrowful," and 
that if a song rose to your lips, it would truly be a " song in 
the night." He does "give songs in the night," and also 
" giveth His beloved sleep." And sweet indeed is our slum- 
ber when we sleep on the bosom of Jesus our beloved. 

I wish to be remembered to your wife, and will you not 
remember me in your hearts and in your petitions to the Holy 
One ? Thanking you, oh ! so much, for your kind attentions 
to me, I am, very unworthily, 

Your sister, I hope, in Christ, 

MARY PARKER. 



About ten days later she writes : 
My Precious Brother and Sister in Christ : 

The next day after I last wrote you I was taken violently 
ill, and it was thought by all who saw me, I was very near the 
door of death. * * * Oh ! that these terrible storm- 
clouds were all forever past, the last painful scene ended, and 
the day dawn of perfect rest and peace were come upon me. 
* * * I hope you will not feel displeased, when I tell you 
what is indeed the truth, that my brief pen acquaintance with 
you, and the sweet comforts that come to my bedside in the 
gifts of the invaluable little desk, the lovely volume of Psalms, 
and lastly, this long-needed Bible, have brought you very near, 
and caused you to seem a very dear and precious brother and 
sister in Christ. The Bible is so light, I can hold it in my 
lap quite a while. 



198 Reminiscences and Letters 

To Mrs. McConnell, November 9th, she writes : 
My Dear Friend : 

I did not think when I had your bright, spicy, cheery 
letter, which made me laugh sometimes, and did me more good 
than medicine, that it would be so long before I could answer 
it, but I have been in such a suffering weak state I could write 
to no one. * * * 

My dear friend, you say you are outside the beautiful, 
pearly gates of the new Jerusalem, but are you not a mourner 
there ? Do you not love to hear the watchmen declare the 
''good tidings of great joy?" Do you not love to partake 
" of the crumbs that fall from the Master's table ? " Oh ! I 
think your heart, your inmost soul will answer, " yes." Then, 
dear friend, why can you not say, like Ruth, "where thou 
goest I will go, thy God shall be my God, thy people my 
people ? " * * * Pardon me for urging this sweet duty 
upon you. Please remember me in kind, grateful love to your 
dear husband, also your little daughter. 



In December she writes : 
My dear Brother and Sister : 

When I look about me and see the many useful and beau- 
tiful things that have come to me through the promptings of 
your kind, generous hearts, I am filled with wonder. It all 
seems more like a beautiful dream than a reality. * * * 
Believe me, had I made a list of things most needed I could 
not have done better. * * * My brother was so delighted, 
for my sake, with your beautiful Christmas gifts, that he wished 
me to tender you his sincere regards and thanks on my behalf. 

Oh ! that the tender, beneficient Saviour, who feedeth the 
ravens, and who noteth the fall of even the tiny sparrow, and 
who hath said that not even a cup of cold water given in His 



Letters 199 

name shall go unrewarded, may richly bless and reward you, 
that He may cause the sunlight of His beautiful love to illume 
your pathway, and that the " Sun of Righteousness may arise 
with healing in His wings." * * * Oh! it is sweet to 
love our spiritual kindred, sweet, very sweet, to hold inter- 
course with them, if it be only through the medium of the pen. 
# # # Each epistle of love and christian fellowship but 
draws the golden chain more and more closely around my 
heart. * * * 

Dear Mrs. McConnell, you will have to get used to my 
profuse adjectives. I do love my friends, and I love to say so. 
I love to call them by endearing names. * * * Added to 
my usual chronic complaints, I have had, during the past week, 
pleurisy of the right lung. It causes my arm and hand to 
ache and weaken, so it is very painful to write. * * * 
May the dear Lord watch tenderly over you and guide your 
footsteps in the " narrow way," and finally take you to the 
dear bosom of His love, is my prayer. * * * 



To Mrs. McConnell, under date of June 20, 1891, she 
writes : 
Dear Friend : 

I have wanted so much to write you since I have known 
you were home from the associations, but have suffered so 
during the long days I could not. * * * I cannot tell 
you how glad I was to receive a letter from your dear husband 
just after the Southampton meeting. It was so good of him 
to take the trouble to write to a poor sick woman who has so 
little to recommend her to the notice of the Lord's dear, 
chosen people. * * * 

Since the long, hot days have come, I seem to loathe food. 
* * * I have been alone so much of late. When I can 
read and write I do not mind it ; but the past month I have 



200 Renwiiscences and Letters 

not been able to do either, and the dreary hours have dragged 
so wearily. My spirits have sunk to the lowest depth. The 
beautiful, green earth, the glad song of birds, the refreshing 
rainfall, all failed to inspire me with one glad thought. Even 
my hope in Christ seemed a mystic dream. Out of the deep- 
est of this gloom I was one day suddenly, and oh ! so happily 
brought by these words coming in to my mind, " He loveth 
at all times. He sticketh closer than a brother." By these 
blessed words there was a removal of the awful weight, an 
uplifting of my soul to Jesus — Jesus the " lover of my soul," 
and a new song filled my mouth, even praise to His holy 
name. Oh ! how sweet, after days and nights of rowing upon 
a dark and starless, storm-tossed sea, to be brought by an 
invisible presence into a calm, safe habor, or to be allowed to 
sit beside "still waters," or to rest under the shadow of the 
wings of the Almighty. Oh ! my friend, have not you also 
learned that, to the weary and heavy laden, this is the sweet- 
est, safest resting place ever a poor sinner found ? 



Mrs. R. M. Benedict, of Indiana, to whom the following 
letter is addressed, is one whose unremitting attention in 
various ways has been of untold benefit to our afflicted 
sister. It is copied from The Signs of the Times . 

New Holland, O., Jan. 21, 1891. 
My Dear Sister : 

Your kind but urgent and repeated request for me to 
write upon the beautiful story of Ruth weighs upon me with 
such force that, incompetent as I know myself to be to treat 
upon a deep, glorious subject, I feel called upon to make the 
effort. 

Our story opens with the coming of the Messiah, "When 
the judges ruled " Israel. For from the union of the gentle 
and virtuous Ruth with the good and noble and wealthy 



Letters 201 

Boaz was to spring Obed, the father of Jesse, who was the 
father of king David, from whom the great Branch in pro- 
phecy was to spring ; who, we are told, was a " Root out of 
Jesse." 

At the opening of our story a severe famine lay waste 
and barren the land of Judah, and brought great suffering to 
the inhabitants. Elimelech, with his wife Naomi and his two 
sons, left their home and went into the land of Moab, where 
plenty reigned, and where the sons, Mahlon and Chilion, 
were married to two Moabitish maidens, named Orpah and 
and Ruth. It is supposed that the noble heart of this good 
and loving wife and mother, Naomi, surrounded by the love 
and protection of her husband and children, was happy and 
content, although she had left the scenes familiar and dear to 
her girlhood, and gone to a strange country, among a people 
of a different nationality, who worshipped a god not like unto 
our God. But when the beloved husband was taken from her 
by death, and then the two only sons, she was heart-broken 
indeed. Standing alone upon the threshold of her broken 
household, is it any wonder if the poor woman felt there was 
nothing left her but the ashes of life ? With swelling heart, 
and eyes swimming with tears, how she must have looked 
longingly toward the land of her nativity, where in those 
early days, before the bitter winds of adversity had swept 
away her earthly possessions, and snapped asunder the dearest 
earthly ties, she was the happiest of maidens, the most joyous 
and prosperous of wives. In this awful agony and desolation, 
how like balm must have been the love and fidelity shown her 
by both of her daughters-in-law. Orpah, it is supposed, really 
thought she loved her good, kind mother-in-law well enough 
to forsake the scenes of her childhood and follow Naomi to 
her former home ; yet she no doubt secretly clung to her 
gods, just as the natural man clings to the frivolities and 
vanities that form his idol of worship. But Ruth, dear, 



202 Reminiscences and Letters 

tender-hearted, loving Ruth, whom the mother had entreated, 
as well as Orpah, to go back to the loved homes in Moab, 
still clung to her. Methinks I see her lovely, impassioned, 
tearful face as, with her young, strong arms thrown about the 
poor, bent form of Naomi, she cried, " Entreat me not to leave 
thee." Oh, the depths of meaning, the deep fervency of love, 
contained in the word entreat. " Entreat me not to leave 
thee, or to return from following after thee ; for whither thou 
goest I will go j and where thou lodgest I will lodge ; thy 
people shall be my people, and thy God my God." Wonder- 
ful utterances. Who but a poor, helpless sinner, sunken in 
the miry clay, whose very soul has been stirred to its deepest 
depths with the desire in the heart to have his feet set upon 
the Rock, Christ Jesus, could utter such a fervent cry ? And 
it must be that Ruth, dear, loving Ruth, had tasted . the bitter- 
ness of sin, had seen the folly of all earthly hopes and vani- 
ties ; else she too, with Orpah, would have gone back to her 
gods instead of so clinging, as we might here say, to the 
mother, the Church. 

When Naomi at last reached her native city, poor in 
spirit, aged and almost destitute of this world's goods, how very 
sad must have been her feelings. Yet how many of us in this 
day are made in a great measure to taste and drink the bitter 
dregs of wordly loss and adversity. But Naomi still had some 
good, true friends ; and as they greeted her, calling her by her 
familiar name, she said, " Call me not Naomi, call me Mara 
[signifying bitterness, or one who weeps] ; for the Almighty 
hath dealt very bitterly with me. ' ' The tie between this poor, 
afflicted woman and her daughter Ruth must now have become 
strong indeed. Here the human and divine love sweetly 
blend and run together as two drops of water flowing into 
one ; for Naomi's God was now Ruth's God, and her people 
Ruth's people. What a dear daughter did this Moabitish 
maiden prove to be to the destitute and sorrowful Naomi. 



Letters 203 

" Let me," said she, " now go to the field and glean after the 
reapers." And the mother bade her go. What a pleasant 
rural scene must have opened to the view of this grand young 
heart as she left the heated city and walked through the shady 
walks of the country, where the fields ripe with the golden 
harvest stretched their broad acres in ocean-like waves before 
her. Here the newly heaven-born soul was led into green pastures 
and walked beside the still waters, and her soul must have been 
filled with the sweet song of redeeming love. " And she 
gleaned in the field after the reapers. ' ' Ah ! what rich golden 
grain it was to her. How eagerly must she have picked up the 
" handfuls " dropped " of purpose " for her. For " it was her 
hap to light upon a part of the field belonging to Boaz, a near 
kinsman of Elimelech." How kindly did the rich owner of 
those harvests treat the lonely stranger. How soothing 
to her trembling soul were his words. "Why," said 
she, "have I found grace in thine eyes, that thou shouldst 
take knowledge of me, seeing I am a stranger ?' ' But Boaz 
answered her, that he had heard of all her kindness to her 
mother-in-law. Is not this the way the dear heavenly Master 
speaks to us when we first begin to eat of his rich harvest, 
when we taste his wondrous love and grace ? Do we not find 
that he has known and loved us, even before we knew him ? 
For " No man," says Jesus, " can come to me unless the 
Father, who sent him, draw him." Boaz said unto Ruth, 
" The Lord recompense thy work, and a full reward be given 
thee of the Lord God of Israel, under whose wings thou hast 
come to trust." Oh, how sweet to the poor, the weary, the 
heavy laden soul, to be thus led into the golden harvest ; to 
rest and trust quietly under the shadow of the wings of the 
Almighty. Ruth's reply to Boaz was, that his words had 
comforted her that he had spoken friendly to her, though 
she was not like his handmaidens. Here we see the humility 
every child of God experiences, the feeling of insufficiency, 



204 Reminiscences and Letters 

and the lack of good qualities in themselves which they see in 
the brethren. "lam not like thy handmaidens." There- 
fore she was so surprised to receive words of kindness, 
expressions of favor and love, from the dear Master, when she 
had no goodness, no spiritual beauty such as she saw those 
have whom she knew had a right to his protection, kindness 
and love. 

After Ruth had gleaned until even, and had beaten out 
the grain, having about an ephah (a bushel and a half) of 
barley, she went home and told her mother-in-law all that had 
transpired during the day, and of the kindness of Boaz. How 
great was the mother's joy while she listened to the glad story, 
and learned that the one who had shown her daughter such 
kindness was her near kinsman. And how the inhabitants ot 
Zion, the church, are always rejoiced when any come with 
singing unto them, telling what great things the Lord has 
done for them. As the church always bids the newly heaven- 
born soul to be buried with the Lord in baptism, and thus be 
espoused to the Bridegroom, so did this mother tell Ruth what 
to do and where to go. How graciously did Boaz receive the 
virtuous, humble maiden. How careful was he to have her 
preserve her purity. "All the people of my city," said he, 
"know that thou art a virtuous woman." And behold how 
he sent her away laden with the golden sheaves of his love, 
that which was the bread of life. She had upon her a veil, 
which covered her. So do we ever behold the King with a 
veil (the flesh) between us, until this mortal shall have put on 
immortality, and we be clothed upon with our house which is 
from heaven. But the golden sheaves covered the length and 
breadth of the veil, thus serving as a shield to cover Ruth 
from any evil imputations from the idle, evil loafers of the city. 
So does the righteousness of Christ take away from us the 
sting and reproach of sin ; and though still sinners in a sinful 
world, if we go forth laden with the fruit of the Holy Spirit, 



Letters 205 

sin cannot harm us, and our "light will so shine before men 
that they may see our good works, and glorify our Father in 
heaven." 

As Boaz was not long in performing his promise to Ruth, 
in redeeming her inheritance, and espousing her as his wife, 
so neither does the Lord fail, nor is he slack in performing 
his promise to Israel. And from this natural union between 
Boaz and Ruth do we trace the lineage of Jesus, " a root out of 
Jesse," " the offspring of David," who was to shed his precious 
blood to redeem the bride, the Lamb's wife, and present her 
a chaste and holy virgin, without spot or wrinkle, or any such 
thing. O the depth of the riches of love such as this ! Like 
Naomi, like Ruth, sorrowful, destitute, with none to help, none 
to redeem her inheritance, whither would she go but to the 
Lord of harvests, whose rich fields waved in golden beauty 
before her eyes? Did the Lord send her empty away? Did 
he not spread his garment about her, cover her with golden 
sheaves, and grant her a right to an inheritance incorruptible, 
undefiled, that fadeth not away, eternal and in the heavens ? 
Was ever an inheritance bought with such a price ? Was ever 
such a spotless purity found as that gained through the washing 
in His blood? Is it any wonder she was a "bride adorned 
for her husband," in spotless white, "all glorious within," 
decked with the jewels of such love ? O wondrous union ! 
O rapturous love, that crowns a marriage like this ! To 
meditate upon it, to be able to catch a faint glimpse of its 
richness, its beauty and purity, through a glass darkly, fills 
the soul with unutterable joy. It is like a strain of heavenly 
music, methinks, such as John heard the harpers sing and harp 
upon their harps of gold in the heavenly Jerusalem, the city 
of our wondrous King. 

MARY PARKER. 



206 Reminiscences and Letters 

[In connection with the foregoing article upon Ruth, we 
will give portions of a letter written upon the same subject to 
Mrs. E. B. Walton, of Philadelphia, dated February 7, 1891.] 

My Dear Sister in Christ : 

Your interesting and most touching letter is before me. 
For some time my mind has been led to study upon the beau- 
tiful Book of Ruth, and at the request of a beloved sister in 
Indiana, I wrote some of my thoughts upon it for the Signs. 
Your dear letter causes my mind to dwell so particularly on the 
following verse that I can not well refrain from expressing my 
thoughts ; " Let me find favor in thy sight, my lord ; for that 
thou hast comforted me, and for that thou hast spoken friendly 
to thy handmaid, though I be not like unto one of thy hand- 
maidens." Ruth ii. 13. What pathos and depth of contri- 
tion do we find these words to contain, spoken by this humble 
Moabitish woman, who, for the love she bore her mother-in- 
law, Naomi, had left the dear, familiar scenes and friends of 
her native country, and had come to seek a home and friends 
among strangers, in a strange land. She was of heathen birth, 
brought up under different circumstances, among a people of 
different habits and customs from those of the Jewish people, 
with whom her lot was now cast. She may have felt that she 
was inferior in her personal appearance or manners to the maid- 
ens with whom the rich Boaz was accustomed to associate. 
Her words seem to imply that in some way she felt inferior ; 
for she said to Boaz, "lam not like one of thy handmaidens." 
Therefore she was greatly surprised, and no doubt very happy, 
when the wealthy, kind owner of the field in which she had 
come to glean, spoke words of kindness to her. Is not this 
the way every child of God feels, my sister, when in their 
poverty and bitter helplessness, they turn to the Lord ? When 
they come out from the world, which has no longer any entice- 
ments for them, nor enduring ties, and they are led by an 



Letters ' 207 

invisible hand into the fields of the dear Master's rich har- 
vests, where they find " han d fills " dropped " of purpose for " 
them, and the kind Master comes to them and speaks words of 
comfort and welcome, are they not, like Ruth, both happy 
and surprised that they should have found favor in His sight ? 
Coming to this rich, fruitful country, which hath "quiet habi- 
tations," from the land of natural heathendom, feeling our- 
selves to be strangers unlike any one else, full of corruption 
and sin, with what surprise do we find ourselves gleaning in 
the rich harvests of God's mercy and love, and allowed to eat 
and drink at the Master's table ; and instead of being counted 
as foreigners, finding ourselves treated as fellow-citizens with 
the saints. No wonder that we, like Ruth, feel like humbly 
bowing ourselves to the earth and saying, " Why have I found 
favor in thy sight; seeing I am a stranger?" Wtien by the 
light of the Sun of righteousness the child of God is made to 
see and feel the evil that dwells within his heart, how great is 
his auguish, and how unlike other followers of the meek and 
lowly Jesus he seems to be. Sitting at the Lord's table with 
our dear spiritual kindred, how lovely they look to us ; how 
unlike ourselves. Truly do we feel " I am not like one of thy 
handmaidens." 

We see our dear brethren and sisters manifesting all the 
fruits of the Spirit, but ourselves unworthy the Master's notice 
or love. But was not Ruth comely in the sight of the rich 
man? Can we not take courage from this illustration, my 
sister? She must have been beautiful and comely in the sight 
of Boaz, though she, herself, felt so inferior, for even before 
Ruth saw him, he was caring for her. How restful and cheer- 
ing must his words have been to this weary, lonely woman, for 
she says, " thou hast comforted me." In like manner does 
the dear Saviour love every humble child, no matter how 
inferior, how poor or vile they feel, and His protecting care is 
about them, even before they know Him. When our dear, 



208 Reminiscences and Letters 

compassionate Lord speaks comfortingly to our sorrowful souls, 
our hearts are made happy, as was the heart of Ruth, and we 
" rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory." As Boaz 
fulfilled all his promises to Ruth, making her his wife and pur- 
chasing her right of inheritance, so does our glorious Lord 
keep his covenant promises to Israel, redeeming his elect 
bride and giving, as a sign of eternal redemption, His own 
blood. How the mind loves to linger upon such a gloriously 
beautiful theme. But the more we contemplate it, the deeper 
it seems to our finite minds, and the more unfathomable. 
How unfailing are all the promises of God. In the New 
Testament we see fulfilled all the phrophecy of the Old. 
The promised Messiah came ; and, when upon the cross, He 
cried, " it is finished." Then there was a fulfillment of the 
law, the work of redemption was complete. There comes to 
my mind the beautiful figure of the rainbow as a covenant 
between God and His people. It is used as an emblem of 
peace, and is an evidence that the Lord will never destroy the 
earth by a flood. In like manner is the death of Jesus a sign 
that the law shall never destroy the Lord's chosen people. In 
all the radiant hues and rich coloring of this emblematic 
" bow " of peace, does the love of Jesus come between them 
and endless punishment. Here " mercy and truth are met 
together; righteousness and peace have kissed each other." 
The Lord says, " when I bring a cloud over the earth, my 
bow shall be in the cloud." So, whenever the clouds of fear 
and doubt, on account of sin, come over the soul, the bow of 
promise in Jesus shall be seen in the cloud, and his dear love 
shall shed its rainbow hues round about us now and forever 
more. As no storm-cloud is too dark for the ' bow ' to show 
itself, so no storms that sweep over the sin-sick soul can be so 
dark but that the promise of the gospel shall be seen. Amid 
all your darkness of mind, dear one, which touches a tender, 
answering chord in my own sorrowful soul, you own that you 



Letters 209 

love God's people; and the apostle says that is one of the 
evidences that you " have passed from death unto life." May 
you rest under the shadow of the Lord's sheltering wing. 
In much love I am truly, the least of all, 

MARY PARKER. 



New Holland, Pickaway Co., O., 

January 7, 1891. 
Mrs. M. M. Hassell. 

My Beloved Mother in Israel : 

If on the receipt of your most precious, beloved letter, 
I could have written you, amid the warmth and glow of my 
great joy and thankfulness, that one like yourself should write 
to a poor, sinful, ignorant child such as myself, if I could 
have told you of the love, peace and joy I felt, and of the 
deep emotions your letter awakened in my soul, then might I 
in some degree have made you feel with what warmth of love 
I regard you, and what a blessed privilege and favor it seems 
to me to be honored with an epistle of love from you. But 
the coming of your letter found me unusually ill, and the 
extreme suffering has so weakened my mental and physical 
powers as to render me wholly unfit to write letters. I am 
still in a suffering condition. Just a little while ago some ladies 
called to see me. One, a strange lady who lives in a distant 
town, remarked, " If I was under such terrible affliction, I 
should think myself justifiable in taking my own life ; in doing 
so I would expect to be saved, too, if in your condition." 
How such words grieved and shocked me, when, in all my pain 
and trial, my blessed Saviour is so good, so kind, so pitiful 
and tender, soothing me as a mother would soothe. " As one 
whom his mother comforteth," so does He comfort me, and 
like a asa father pitieth his children," so does he love, pity 
and strengthen me upon my bed of languishing, making " all 



210 Reminiscences and Letters 

my bed in my sickness." How, then, could I grieve and 
offend such a dear, blessed friend by forcing myself out of 
the position in which He in His wisdom and love chooses to 
place me ? Am I not as clay in His hands ? Has He not 
power to do what He will with His own ? And oh ! how 
sweetly does he manifest himself to me amid my pain ; how 
closely does He draw near at times. How He causes a soft, 
radiant light, like the glory of the sun, to shine about me, at 
times, as I pour out my soul to Him in prayer. But oh ! my 
sister, it is not always that light and hope illumine my sorrow- 
ful pathway. There are times when darkness so thick as to 
almost be felt envelops me ; when there seems no dear Jesus 
near, no power or inclination to pray, no hungering for His 
word, nothing, it seems, but just fear and doubt and sins 
black as the tents of Kedar. Then it is that Job's kind of 
comforters annoy me, Satan harrasses me, and my afflictions 
seem like great mountains, as witnesses against me, causing all 
to see, with myself, that I am no Christian, no object of the 
dear Lord's special care. But no darkness is so thick or so 
lasting but that I trust my blessed Saviour's love and smile 
can, at times, penetrate it ; no billows beat so fiercely against 
the frail bark, but that His sweet, " Peace be still," can some- 
times be heard above the roar of the storm, and the "still 
small voice " sends sweet music into the soul, attuning it to 
sing the song of redeeming love. How I sympathize with 
dear sister Slade in the dark shadows that you say so often 
hover over her. In the beginning of this wondrous spiritual 
journey of life, the darkness of my mind often amounted 
almost to despair, and my soul was much of the time bowed 
down with such a sense of sin and guilt, that had I been a 
thief, a liar, or murderer, I could not have felt much greater 
condemnation ; and I mourned the absence of the Saviour's 
presence almost continuously. But since trials so fiery, sor- 
row so deep, pain so great, have come upon me, my hope and 



Letters 211 

trust and faith seem stronger. So sweetly, so forcibly has He 
manifested Himself to me as my Saviour and Redeemer, my 
Friend, my life, my hope, my all, that it seems there is no 
room or cause for doubt. May it be His will to lift the cloud 
that hangs so heavily over the mind of your dear daughter. 
May He take her under the shadow of His wing, and may His 
soothing presence and love be felt in her heart. I read the 
account of your losses and trials with deep interest ; and oh ! 
how it strengthened me to hear of your abiding faith and 
trust in our blessed Saviour. I think I can faintly realize 
something of your meaning, when you say, "I feel sometimes 
that I have just begun to live. ' ' In the love that I trust I feel, 
and see flowing into the hearts of the Lord's dear people from 
the great Fountain Source, binding them so closely, so sweetly 
to Jesus and to one another, through His precious blood, I am 
filled with such joy, such ecstacy as I have no power to 
describe. The great joy of this love, its wealth and depth, 
sweetness and power, are made more powerfully manifest in 
my poor, isolated life of late than ever before. Letters, dear, 
spiritual letters, have come to me from almost all over the land 
the past few months, all telling the same sweet story, speaking 
the same familiar, soul-comforting language. So different is 
this language from that which I am accustomed to hear from 
the unregenerate, so sweetly does it accord with the language 
of my soul, that often while reading I stop to wonder why it 
is that I am permitted to know and hear this " joyful sound," 
this " certain sound," that is such delicious food and music to 
my soul ; and I can but exclaim, "Who is it that maketh thee 
to differ?" None but Jesus, who opens the eyes of the blind, 
and sets the captive soul free. Dear mother, you say you did 
not know I so kindly regarded you. I wish I had strength to 
tell you how sacredly and closely is your image, and the 
memory of your beautiful writings, associated with the mem- 
ory of my own dear mother, how much she prized your letters ; 



212 Reminiscences and Letters 

how she treasured each paper, and how often your name 
was on the lips of both my parents in the happy, golden days 
of my childhood. But I write under most unfavorable cir- 
cumstances, with my body writhing in pain, and must close. 
There has not yet been an enlarged, revised edition of my 
little book, neither is there one copy left of the present one. 
There is talk of another publication, but I cannot tell whether 
it will be in the near or distant future, or whether there will be 
one at all. Our dear sister Bessie Durand is contemplating 
the attempt ; but it seems so unnecessary, and the letters so 
void of any good, I have no heart to assist. 

Remember me in kind love to Elder H., brother and sister 
Slade, and all who may inquire after me. Oh ! dear mother, 
pray for me, that my weary soul may not faint. Write again 
if you can, and excuse this disconnected letter. 

In much love, 

MARY PARKER. 



From the Signs. 

December 26, 1889. 
Mrs. M. M. Rounsavell. 

My Dear Sister : 

Your kind favor of December 2 2d reached me yester- 
day, on the glad, bright Christmas morning. Both your help- 
ful, efficient Christmas gift, and your dear words of christian 
fellowship and love, came to me as sweet incense, or as manna 
from the divine hand of him who gave us the blessed gift of 
his dear Son, which brought "peace on earth, good will to 
men." You sent me, you said, the purest wish of your heart, 
"God bless you," which was to me the breathing of the effect- 
ual, fervent prayer of a purified heart, which availeth much. 
For O, my' sister, God answered your prayer ; for amid all the 
intense pain and weariness of my clouded, storm-tossed life 



Letters 213 

there came to me with the bright Christmas dawn a thankful 
joy, a sweet, quiet happiness, as it were the whisperings of that 
" still, small voice " which brings upon its zephyr-like wings 
that peace which passeth all understanding. My whole inner 
being seemed infused with that light which shineth in darkness 
unto perfect day ; and my blessed Saviour seemed so near that 
I desired to walk, O, so softly, before Him in love. As one 
Christmas token of love and tender remembrance after another 
came to me during the livelong day, until my couch was quite 
filled with tiny parcels and boxes, I wondered if in all the world 
there was one sinful creature who had so much cause for thank- 
fulness, or who felt so gratefully happy. Aside from my severe 
affliction, my helplessness and my shut-in life, there seemed but 
one cloud to mar my peace ; that was my extreme unworthi- 
ness, and the painful sense of my inability to love and thank 
the divine and gracious Giver with singleness of heart. 

Persons of every religious denomination in the land come 
to my sick-room. I have many kind friends among both ladies 
and gentlemen ; but, my sister, I often feel lonely in the midst 
of it all ; and amid the most animated conversation with the 
worldly, my thoughts, my affections, will go out to that blessed 
people who alone know the " joyful sound " of the gospel, and 
to whom the rainbow of hope and peace casts its bright-hued, 
effulgent rays. Never more do I expect to go to the house of 
the Lord to worship in the earthly courts, but trust ere long I 
may join the church triumphant above, where I can join in 
ceaseless singing of the song of redeeming love, and chant the 
praises of our risen Saviour and Lord. I cannot tell you how 
grateful I am for your expressions of love. I never can under- 
stand how or why any one should love me in the least, and so 
I often think myself unloved and forgotten by those I hold so 
dear. Sister Eva Sayer mentioned your name in her letter, as 
a sister who was active in procuring sales for my little book. 



214 Reminiscences and Letters 

I never forgot you, and when I saw your name I did not 
feel it was that of a stranger. O sister, it is only just recently 
that I felt at all reconciled to my book, or that I could take 
courage to look inside its pages. I was so grieved because so 
many things I meant to be strictly private came before the 
public ; but now I no longer care, and am glad after ail that 
they were published, as many have expressed themselves as 
having been comforted by them. They were a great help to 
me financially, as my expenses are unavoidably heavy. You 
have my thanks for your share in the helpful work. A daughter 
of Elder Wm. L. Beebe, in Canada, has greatly helped me in 
this way. Give my best love and thanks to sister Kate Beebe, 
and tell her 1 am grateful for her love. May she, the daughter, 
also, of a noble servant of the Lord, never have to wade through 
waters so dark and deep as have fallen to my lot. When I saw 
the obituary of sister Eva Saver's father, I wanted to write her 
some word of condolence, but was so poorly I did not feel 
that I could write. Please remember me in love to her, and 
the family of dear Elder Wm. L. Beebe. I answer your letter 
thus early, because I am now " clothed and in my right mind." 
To-morrow I may be unconscious or delirious. Do please write 
soon again, and excuse this long letter, written amid all sorts 
of interruptions. 

In deep affection, very unworthily yours, 

MARY PARKER. 



Letters 215 



From the Signs of the Times. 
[Extracts from letters of Mary Parker.] 

Dear Brethren Beebe : 

I send you for publication in the Signs portions of some 
letters written by our dear, afflicted sister, Mary Parker, whose 
name calls forth feelings of warm affection and deep sympathy 
in the hearts of so many throughout our land. The letters 
entire would be read with great interest, as well as others which 
we have received from her; but it is my purpose now to send 
only enough to show particularly her suffering condition, to 
give an expression of her state of mind, and to let the friends 
who so deeply sympathize with her afflictions know of her 
grateful appreciation of their expressions of love and sympathy, 
and of their kind ministrations to her necessities. 

To sister Bessie, December 2, 1889, she writes; 

" My dropsy is much increased. The swelling is greater 
in neck, face and arm than ever before, and at times I have 
great difficulty to get my breath, and sometimes it causes great 
stupor. One of our wealthy citizens, who is suffering from 
chronic disease of the stomach, sent to Columbus for an 
eminent specialist. Some of my friends brought him to see 
me. He said he had been much among the afflicted, had been 
a surgeon in the late war, but never had he looked upon such 
suffering. When my limbs were unbandaged he was touched 
so that he sobbed like a child. Yet he is a man of the world, 
given to profanity, and is often charged with being heartless. 
There were no dry faces in my room while he told of the 
indescribable sufferings of such a case. He said one thing 



2i 6 Re?)iiniscences and Letters 

surprised him beyond all else, the calm serenity of my count- 
enance. O, I thought, here is a secret that you, with all your 
scientific knowledge, know nothing about ; for truly ' the 
secret of the Lord is with them that fear Him,' and nothing 
but the amazing grace of God can quiet the waves of mental 
and physical suffering that cast their pitiless, unceasing surges 
upon me. Oh ! my sister, how greatly you are blessed in 
being permitted to worship under your own vine and fig tree, 
and in having the privilege of enjoying sweet spiritual inter- 
course with your spiritual kindred. You cannot realize how 
hard it is to sing the Lord's song in a strange land, or while 
sitting by the streams of Babylon, with its turbulent waters 
washing in upon your troubled soul. How intense becomes 
one's longing to see Zion, dear Zion, the city of our solemni- 
ties, the seat and habitation of our glorious King. How sweet 
and tender then become our remembrances of Zion, of the 
glorious feasts we have enjoyed while we have partaken of the 
manna which fell from the lips of him whose feet were shod 
with the preparation of the gospel of peace, of the dear familiar 
faces we met there, of the sweet smiles and tender pressure of 
hands. O, for the cool, green pastures of my Father's house, 
and the still, small voice, so full of restfulness and peace." 



To my wife, under date of December 21st, she says : 

" Very Dear Sister, and Dear and Precious Friends and 
Kindred in our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ : 

The dear letter, laden with its helpful contents, came to 
me last night. I would that I had a gifted pen, that I might 
be able to portray to you the deep gratitude that fills my 
heart. As it is, emotions too deep for utterance permeate my 
entire being ; and any language I am able to command seems 
too tame, too empty and cold to express the feelings your great, 



Letters 217 

unexpected kindness stirs up in the inmost recesses of my 
being. When I opened your letter, saw its contents, and read 
your words so fraught with delicate feeling, so full of the sweet 
incense of divine love, it seemed that my Saviour drew near, 
saying, ' Peace ! be still ! ' and there was a calm. The dear 
voice spoke peace to my troubled soul, the sweetness of which 
cannot be told. There came to my wearied heart "beauty 
for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, and the garment of 
praise for the spirit of heaviness." Truly did I feel to be 
taken into his banqueting house, and His banner over me was 
love. Love to the ever-blessed Redeemer ; love to those who 
are rooted and grounded in him. The dear little family who 
so willingly share their home with me offered congratulations, 
and sister Lottie mingled her tears with mine. But I seemed 
like one in a delicious dream, like one suddenly lifted to that 
delightful realm, to bask and bathe in the sunshine and river 
of God's eternal love. I not only seemed brought unusually 
near to the wounded side of our dear Lord and Saviour, but 
also seemed sacredly near, and to hold sweet intercourse and 
divine communion with you and each member of your dearly 
loved household. O, there is a mysterious something about 
this invisible intercourse that I cannot define ; yet it is just as 
real to me as is the felt but unseen presence of Him who was 
with Moses in the mount. Oh ! the wonder and sweetness of 
God's eternal, redeeming love, and the wonderful, enlivening, 
interlinking and blending, as it flows from the great fountain- 
head into the heart of each chosen one, binding them all 
sweetly, closely to each other and to their adorable Head, 
through the efficacy and cleansing power of His shed blood. 
How sweet is the tie ; and how it animates and gladdens our 
so often cold, aching hearts when we feel its soothing power 
flow into the soul. 

" You said in your dear letter that you wished you might 
be able to write words that would be consoling to my wearied 



218 Reminiscences and Letters 

spirit. The dear Lord sweetly answered the breathing of that 
prayer, for almost every word in your precious letter came 
into my soul like softly falling dew, refreshing and gladden- 
ing, and filling me with that peace which it is said passeth 
understanding, and which is past all human power to describe. 
The very sensible and delicate manner in which you laid the 
subject of the very helpful gift before me, and the manner and 
spirit in which it should be accepted, was very soothing, and 
took away any feeling of humiliation or wounded pride. How 
very unworthy I feel to be thus tenderly cared for and remem- 
bered by my dear Saviour and his beloved people. O may 
the blessedness of giving be felt in each heart that cheerfully 
gave so precious a draught to one weary and oppressed, and 
may the everlasting arms shield you all from every wintry 
blast. Dear little Edith's gift seemed particularly touching, 
and I shall treasure it so long as life lasts. May the rich bless- 
ings and love of our gracious, covenant-keeping God ever shield 
and guard her tender footsteps. The same mail that brought 
sister Bessie's last dear letter brought one also from sister 
Anna Jenkins, of Philadelphia, containing a Christmas pres- 
ent. Those letters came to me as water to the thirsty, or 
food to the hungry, and brought such restfulness to my soul 
as I cannot describe. A day or two afterward I took severely 
worse ; had two chills in close succession of from eight to 
twelve hours' duration. Then came inflammation and 
increased pain and swelling of both limbs. * * * Until 
yesterday my suffering knew no bounds; yet so great has 
been my consolation in Christ, so very near has dear Jesus 
been to me, ever filling my room with his dear, invisible 
presence, bringing a hush-like gladness, a quiet resignation, a 
sweet restfulness, that I have no power whatever to describe. 
Oh ! I cannot tell any of these sweet festivities of my poor, 
sad soul. But you have all sat down under this wondrous 
shadow with great delight, and know all about its depth and 



Letters 219 

breadth, and how unutterable is its sweetness. When so many 
temporal and spiritual blessings thus pour in upon my poor, 
maimed, suffering, shut-in life, I wonder if any are so unspeak- 
ably blessed, if any of all God's creatures have just such and 
so much cause for deep, unutterable thankfulness. Will you 
not, dear ones, thank each brother and sister who so kindly 
added to the very efficient Christmas gift? Could they know 
what a load of anxious care they have helped lift from me 
they would certainly feel in some measure repaid. So intense 
is my pain that I write while under the influence of a power- 
ful opiate taken hypodermically (medicines taken by the 
stomach have no effect whatever) ; and that may be the reason 
I find it so impossible to say what I wish to say. From the 
depths of my heart, I do most tenderly and sincerely thank 
you all, and thank God for giving me such kind friends. You 
speak of the sum sent as being small. To me it seems quite a 
little fortune, and is the more helpful because, through the 
dishonesty of persons owing me, who take advantage of my 
helplessness, I have not been able to collect my little personal 
funds since last August, and the severity of my afflictions calls 
for almost daily expenditure. A dear brother in Canada sent 
me seven dollars some time ago. Thus you see, as sister Bessie 
truly says, ' While there is a pressing down on the one hand, 
there is an uplifting on the other ; and ever and always 
through the thick cloud does our covenant-keeping God cause 
to shine his bright hued rainbow of peace and hope. ' Truly 

He is a God slow to anger, very pitiful, and of tender mercy." 
* * * 



To sister Bessie, under date of February 10th, she writes : 

"I do assure you, nothing but the increased severity of 
the terrible malady, which holds my body so securely in its 
grasp, could have forced me to be so long silent to you and 



220 Reminiscences and Letters 

your dear family, to whom I feel so grateful, and so deeply 
indebted. When last I wrote to sister Clarice, acknowledging 
my gratitude to you all for your assistance and kindness, I 
was not as well as usual. I gradually became worse. For 
weeks I was unable to take nourishment, scarcely enough to 
sustain life. Before I began to recover my usual strength I 
took influenza, which greatly aggravated all my chronic 
symptoms. To attempt a description of my sufferings would 
be vain indeed. I tried to be patient, tried to pray for resig- 
nation, but an intense longing to be released would rise 
paramount to all other desires. In vain did I think of Jesus 
bleeding, dying upon the cruel cross, the cruel nails driven 
through the tender flesh, the pain, the thirst, with the terrible 
weight of the sins of His people upon Him. To think of it now 
melts my heart ; but in the agony of my own excruciating pain 
it all caused no tear, no melting of my selfish, sorely tried 
heart. ' The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.' 
I feel that I long for death, and shrink from future suffering 
to a degree that grieves my precious Saviour, and causes Him 
to withdraw His peaceful presence from me ; for I do not feel 
the warmth in prayer, the nearness to Him who is " the chief 
among ten thousand, and the one altogether lovely," that I 
have so much of the time been blessed with since affliction 
drew its dark mantle so securely about me. The words of Job 
often came forcibly to my mind ; "Shall I receive good at 
the hands of God, and shall I not receive evil." When so 
many blessings are strewn along my pathway ought I to fret 
when I find thorns amid the roses? Though He slay me, 
shall I not still trust Him, still cling to Him as my Lord, my 
life, my all ? * * * How I would like to go with you to 
the house of the Lord to-day. Oh, may the dear Shepherd 
give abundant food to His servants to hand out to each trem- 
bling soul, and you feel yourselves being led into green 
pastures, and beside the still waters ; and may you all drink 



Letters 221 

deeply of that ' river, the streams whereof make glad the city 
of our God.' * * * I cannot tell you what a blessing 
the precious Christmas gift sent by the dear ones of your 
place has been to me. In the increased pain there was an 
increased need of outlay. * * * * * * 
The last extracts which I will make are from a letter 
written to me, April n ; "There are certainly times in my 
poor, shut in life, made up, though it be, entirely of small 
things, when I feel very like I think Moses felt when he said, 
'lam slow of speech, and of a slow tongue.' It seems to 
have been one of my weaknesses from my childhood to be 
most silent when I feel most deeply. In just such condition I 
find myself now. I want to tell you how thankful I am, first, to 
my blessed Saviour, then to you; but I cannot. Tears fill my 
eyes and my heart swells,? but you know nothing of the con- 
flicting emotions. My blessed Jesus knows, and that comforts 
me. But words seem to be fraught with no meaning nor 
weight at all when I would attempt to tell you of what I 
feel. When I opened your letter and saw the amount the 
order called for I could hardly believe that I was not 
dreaming. When I did realize it, such an overwhelming sei;se 
of God's great goodness came over me, of His goodness in thus 
making me the object of His care, of His giving me such a friend 
as you have proven yourself to be, of His opening the hearts 
of those dear brethren and sisters to minister to one whose 
face they never saw, as I have no power to express. I feel 
ever since like a little child whose fears and repinings have 
all been hushed and sweetly quieted within the mother's arms, 
while reposing upon the bosom of her love. * * * I am so 
glad you mentioned the subject of your discourse last Sunday. 
It was a comfort to me. I never heard one speak about those 
beautiful portions of Scripture ; but for several months it has 
dwelt in my mind with great beauty and sweetness. I was led 
to reflect upon it by seeing a beautiful rainbow from my west 



222 Reminiscences and Letters 

window one morning ; and the thought that came to me while 
viewing the lovely sight made me radiantly happy. But my 
dull perception is not capable of taking in the comfort and 
beauty of the Scriptures you alluded to as I think yours would 
be, and I would love dearly to have heard your sermon upon 
it. If it would please the Lord to exercise your mind to write 
upon it what a comfort it would be to many besides myself. 
How strikingly similar is the description of the rainbow 
as the covenant between God and His people in Genesis, and 
that in the New Testament, in Revelations. How beautifully 
do the two books, the entire Scriptures, blend, thus making 
line upon line ; and what a blessing that we can sometimes 
read them with an understanding heart, and receive the dear 
promises as made to such as ourselves. * * * If you can 
tell any one of those who ministered to me of my gratitude, 
I would be glad." 

In a letter of a later date, referring to my expressed desire 
to publish some portion of her letters, she says : " Should you 
have parts of my letters published, if you could make my 
thanks to the brethren more pointed or personal, I would be 
glad." In another letter, which is not now by me, she 
expressed a fear that she might appear mercenary, and a desire 
that it might be understood that it was not so much on account 
of the pecuniary value of the gifts that she prized them so 
highly, greatly needed and helpful as they were, as it was 
because of the love and sympathy thus manifested. There are 
other and even more heart-rending descriptions of her sad 
condition physically, and many other expressions of gratitude 
to the dear friends for their kindness, besides those included 
in the above extracts. It is proper to say that these descrip- 
tions are given in answer to questions from us, which were 
prompted by a desire to know whether help could be ren- 
dered, and how it could be most suitably done. 



Letters 223 

Who can read these touching expressions from one who 
has been a helpless sufferer for so many years without deep emo- 
tions of sympathy ? It is good to have the heart so stirred to 
its depths at times by the contemplation of the extreme afflic- 
tions which the Lord is pleased to lay upon some of His dear 
little ones, and so feel the fogs of selfishness, that so con- 
stantly rise from this vile nature of ours, blown aside by the 
heavenly wind, so that the tender and helpful sympathies of 
our spiritual nature may appear. The Lord has many stewards 
of temporal things whom He has made able and willing to dis- 
pense them when cases of need are brought to their knowledge ; 
and there are many who have not been given the stewardship 
of temporal riches, who yet obey the apostle's exhortation to 
" put on charity" and " bowels of mercies " and "loving- 
kindness," and who, as cup-bearers in the house of our King, 
visit the afflicted and sorrowful with refreshing and cheering 
sympathy, comfort and love. This dear sister is one of the 
many who cause us to wonder at the heavy burdens of suffer- 
ing which the weakest can bear when sustained by the invisi- 
ble power of grace, and to wonder that upon the gentlest 
and tenderest should be laid afflictions which would cause the 
strongest to sink in dismay. The Lord is pleased in this way 
to show the sufficiency of His grace, and cause His strength to 
be made perfect in weakness. She herself has been manifest as 
a cup-bearer, having refreshed and comforted and helped many 
of the Lord's dear children by her words and her patient life. 

The first present she acknowledges was sent by the friends 
at Southampton ; the last one by them and by friends in 
churches of the Delaware and Salisbury Associations. The 
amount of both was less than fifty dollars. In being favored 
to send this liberality to our dear sister, many grateful expres- 
sions are returned to us personally which belong to all whose 
contributions we sent, and to many others who would be glad 
of the opportunity to join in giving the needed help. 



224 Reminiscences and Letters 

It is now my intention, if the Lord will, to visit her on 
my return from attending my published list of appointments 
in Kentucky, perhaps on Monday, May 12. Should I be 
enabled to do so I may afterward have something more to say 
to the readers of the " Signs," and especially to those whose 
hearts the Lord has touched and filled with his boundless love, 
which reaches out to, and embraces, all his afflicted poor. 

SILAS H. DURAND. 
Southampton, Pa., April 21, 1890. 



From the Signs. 

VISIT TO MARY PARKER. 

On Monday afternoon, May 12, I got off the cars at the 
pleasant village of New Holland, Ohio, where I was met by 
Mr. John Parker. After a short walk we reached his house, 
and I entered the room occupied by his sister, Mary Parker. 
On the eighth day of September, 1868, I had last seen her at 
her home near Logan. Her father, Elder John Parker, and 
her mother were both then living. It was a pleasant home, 
and I can never forget the pleasant little family group that 
lovely morning as I bade them good bye, and was taken by 
her father to Logan, on my way to my next appointment. She 
was then about eighteen, a member of the church, and in good 
health; and a pleasant and prosperous future in this life might 
well have been predicted for her. But the Lord's ways are 
not our ways. In other ways than we would choose, and far 
different, He prepares those who shall be His in that day when 
He makes up His jewels, that they may reflect His image and 
show forth His praise. A path of sorrow and affliction, and of 



Letters 225 

physical suffering that is indescribable, was the one marked 
out for this dear sister by her loved and loving Saviour, whose 
tender love is infinitely beyond that of the tenderest mother. 

What a change ! How different the scene from that nearly 
twenty-two years before ! Then a bright, cheerful girl, standing 
in the glow and buoyancy of youth and health, looking hope- 
fully toward the future, but with an evident desire to be a true 
follower of the meek and lowly Saviour. Now a lonely woman, 
long used to pain and weariness of body, father and mother 
gone, shut in from the busy scenes of the world, separated 
from her kindred in Christ, and knowing well what soul- 
trouble is. As I entered the room and looked upon her care- 
worn, suffering, patient, pleasant face, I recognized something 
of the features and expression ; but I remembered more especi- 
ally the trials and hopes and joys that she has expressed in her 
letters, the features of her inner life that we have thus become 
familiar with ; and in sweet fellowship and sympathy I took 
the hand of our poor, dear, lonely, afflicted, highly favored 
sister. 

She sits upon the edge of a lounge, the only position 
possible for her. Pillows are piled up at her right side upon 
which she can recline her head a little for a short time. 
She sleeps but a few minutes at a time. Her left foot 
is in a sad condition, requiring frequent attention. Her 
left limb above the knee is fifty-three inches around. This 
will show the difficulty in maintaining her slight position 
upon the couch, which must be cushioned with firm material, 
nothing soft. She sometimes gets a little sleep while her head 
reclines forward, but is then liable to fall from her seat. 

But I will not undertake to speak of her condition physi- 
cally. It has been described in her letters, probably as well 
as it could be. It would be difficult to fully present the reality. 
She asked me, " Do you think I have exaggerated my case?" 
" No," I replied, " it could not have been exaggerated." I 



226 Reminiscences and Letters 

wondered how she could read and write, for she can hardly 
bear the weight of a small book on her lap. Some things that 
might be for her advantage and comfort were suggested, and 
had been thought of by her. The liberality of brethren and 
friends has helped her somewhat, and will more fully help her 
to obtain what will be of service to her. There are enough of 
kind, sympathizing hearts and willing hands only waiting to 
know how help can be intelligently given. To them I will 
say that her brother has a pleasant home which he shares 
with her, and from himself and his wife and daughter she 
receives such kind attention as they can give. It will be 
readily understood that a family in moderate circumstances 
can barely supply what is absolutely necessary in so extreme a 
case as hers. I have asked her to get such things as she thinks 
will be an advantage to her, some of which we spoke of when 
I was there, and let me know the cost. For I have the assur- 
ance that many are anxious to help provide her with anything 
that will render her condition more comfortable. 

I will state for the information of those interested that I 
brought to her from friends where I had been, $18.25. Since 
my return from the West, brethren and friends have handed 
me for her sums amounting to $45.50, which I have just sent 
to her. And I will now say that I will cheerfully serve any 
who are impressed to make me the bearer of their liberality to 
her. I wish all who are minded to contribute in this manner 
to give me their names and addresses, not to publish, but that 
I may have a record of them. One kind friend sent me two 
dollars for her anonymously. Brother Hiram Horton sent with 
his contribution the hymn No. 609, Beebe's collection : 

" Blest be the tie that binds 
Our hearts in christian love." 

I was at her house four hours. At four o'clock I spoke to 
her and a considerable company of her neighbors and friends. 



Lette?'s 227 

I read the one hundred and sixteenth Psalm for a subject. 
Very poor my preaching appeared to me, as it most generally 
does, and far short of the glory of the sublime theme. But the 
power is in the word, not in the earthen vessel ; in the gospel, 
and not in the manner of preaching it. If it were not so I 
could never go on trying to proclaim the unsearchable riches 
of Christ. The Lord was pleased to bless the word spoken to 
the comfort of our dear sister, for whom the appointment was 
made, and who was the only member of the church before me. 
Whether it found a lodging place in any other heart I do not 
know. 

A few sentences from a letter to sister Bessie will give a 
glimpse of her feelings, and will show how encouraged the 
poorest and weakest of the Lord's servants should be to go 
whenever the Spirit moves them to go, notwithstanding any 
apparent obstacles that may be in the way, and to " be instant 
in season, out of season," preaching the word, however unpre- 
pared and unfit they may feel for so exalted a work: " Your 
dear brother has come and gone. Like a golden beam of 
sunlight after clouds and rain was his brief visit, falling into 
my darkened, shut-in life. O how my gladdened soul drank 
the honeyed sweetness, the delicious nectar that flowed to me 
through this earthen vessel, with its interlining of pure gold, 
from the great fountain source. How sweetly did my weary 
soul rest, and bathe and bask in the sunshine of that love 
which made ' heart to heart responsive beat ; ' for your brother 
seemed to utter no sentence which did not find a responsive 
echo in my hungry, half-famished soul. And is it any wonder, 
since, with but one exception, I have not heard the voice of 
one of the Lord's dear under-shepherds since I heard Elder 
Danks at the Indian Creek Association ? It must have been 
eleven years ago. Your brother's coming seems so like a 
beautiful dream ; and I feel to move softly, quietly, lest I 
awaken and find it only a delicious hallucination. I had 



22< 



Reminiscences and Letters 



prayed so earnestly that his visit might fall on a day when I 
would be l clothed and in my right mind ; ' and how gra- 
ciously did the dear, indulgent Lord grant me my petition. 
O, Bessie, dear, I forgot that I was ill and suffering while 
listening to the words that fell from your brother's lips." 

Our dear sister has been, as she wanted to be, a true fol- 
lower of the dear Saviour ; but it has been for her, as it must be 
for all His followers in some measure, a path of peculiar suffer- 
ing. Those who follow Him must go where He went, which 
none would voluntarily do ; for He went through sorrow, pain 
and death. In all who know the power of His resurrection 
there must be a knowledge of the fellowship of His sufferings, 
and a conformity to His death. Only through partaking of 
His sufferings can any partake of His consolation and joy. 
In many different forms the afflictions come to the Lord's 
people. He assigns to each what is best for him. However 
greatly they may seem to differ in kind and degree, the final 
result is the same in all, for it is to humble them before the 
Lord, that His name alone shall be exalted in their salvation. 
One may be so afflicted in loss of kindred and friends and pos- 
sessions, and in extreme bodly pain, as to excite sympathy in 
all, and cause friends to sit silent in astonishment, as in the 
case of Job, and yet be favored with such a holy and sublime 
trust and confidence in the Lord, that not even his own hand 
apparently raised to slay him can destroy it. "Though He 
slay me, yet will I trust in Him." Another may be favored 
with all temporal blessings, and yet be so lacking in the felt 
power of spiritual life that no true comfort is enjoyed here, 
and so weak in faith that death is a constant source of terror. 

How many sad sufferers there are among the Lord's dear 
people ! Our afflicted sister recognizes and sympathizes with 
the sufferings of others. Sad, inexpressibly sad to our human 
view, as her own case is, I cannot but regard her as highly 
favored of the Lord, to be kept so exercised upon spiritual 



Letters 229 

things ; to be given such holy trust in the Lord, and the peace 
of God which passeth all understanding, to keep her heart and 
mind through Christ Jesus ; to be so " strengthened with 
might by His Spirit in the inner man " under all her sufferings 
that she is made an example of the power of God's grace to 
sustain the weakest of all His dear children under the heaviest 
and bitterest trials, and of the power of His love to call forth 
"songs of sublime adoration and praise " in the deepest night 
of affliction. 

Your brother, in hope of eternal life, 

SILAS H. DURAND. 

P. S. — I have just received a letter from which I will 
quote the following : " Once more, my good, kind brother, 
I owe you thanks and gratitude ; but I feel at just as great a 
loss for means or words whereby I may express the emotions 
of the mind as I did at the other times. And since you know 
my deficiency in this way, will you not kindly take it for 
granted that at heart I feel the deepest gratitude and' thank- 
fulness to the blessed Giver of all good, to you, and to the 
dear souls who have so generously ministered to my needs? 
I would I could see each kindly face, each dear brother and 
sister into whose heart the dear Lord caused this beautiful 
charity for one sorely afflicted to flow, and by the pressure of 
the hand, the gratitude in look and speech, cause them to fee] 
what a weary burden their kindness and sympathy have 
lightened, and how sincere and deep is the thankfulness in my 

heart." 

S. H. D. 



230 Reminiscences and Letters 

Extracts from The Signs. 

March 16, 1890. 
Mrs. Diana Morris. 

My Dear Sister in a Precious Saviour : 

Your letter was indeed quite a surprise, but a very 
pleasant one I assure you. It awakened many emotions within 
me, and brought to mind many tender and pleasant memories 
of the happy past. What a flood of tenderness wells up in 
my heart at the mention of father and mother, especially if 
spoken by one who personally knew them, and appreciated 
their goodness and worth. I often ask myself if it was because 
he was my father, and I loved him so, that his preaching 
seemed fraught with so much power, earnestness and elo- 
quence ; that it appeared so deeply touching, coming straight 
from his heart, and going to the heart of each believing 
hearer. 

Well and wisely ordered by divine providence is it that 
we cannot look into the veiled vista of the future and see 
what it has in store for us. Surely had this wisdom been 
given me I would have sunk by the wayside, and doubtless 
taken my own life. But as it is, the deep waters that have 
surged their bitter waves against me have not been permitted 
to overflow me ; neither have the furnace-heated flames 
burned me. A hand more powerful, more tender even than 
that of an earthly parent, friend or lover, has ever led me 
along, and underneath it all have been the everlasting arms. 
Oh ! was it to show me the tenderness and power of His won- 
drous love that He stripped me of earthly, human love ? Was 
it to show me how strong He is that He took so nearly all 
my strength ? Was it to show me how helpful He is that I 
was made helpless, and to show me the sweetness of His being 



Letters 231 

near that He removed father, mother, and spiritual kindred so 
far from me ? Blessed be His name. I would that my stam- 
mering tongue were loosed, or I had the pen of a ready 
writer, that I might tell you how near, how dear, how sure, 
how sweet, is the love of Jesus made manifest to me, a sinner ; 
to me who am so vile, and so less than nothing in and of 
myself. O, my sister, if I could but tell you of His goodness 
to me here upon my bed of languishing ! It is seven years, I 
think, since I walked or could get off my bed. Alone much 
during the day, and all alone in my room during the long, 
pain -rilled nights, what would I do if it were not for the 
invisible presence of my precious Jesus? How surely near 
does He seem at times ! how sweet are my communions with 
Him ! how great my rejoicing, as one rich blessing after 
another is brought to mind ! Ah, these are blessed songs 
given me in the night, indeed, when no human hand can aid 
me, no human touch soothe my pain, no human eye drop the 
pitying tear. 



March 27, 1890. 

I am in such a state of intense suffering that I cannot 
hope to answer your letter ; but as you wish my consent to 
the publication of my letter, I thought I had better write you, 
for fear I become so much worse as to be unable to answer the 
request at all. I do not know what the letter contains, but 
if it would be any gratification to yourself or to your dear 
afflicted brother to see it in the Signs, I certainly cannot 
object. 

A daughter of the late Dr. Taylor, of Perry County, 
paid me a brief visit recently. In early girlhood we were very 
intimate friends. She had read my book of letters, but when 



232 Reminiscences and Letters 

she saw me she said, " O, Mary ! I never dreamed you were 
like this." Three times she attempted to look at my limbs, 
but each time grew white and faint, and would have fallen 
had she not quickly hurried away. One night last week I 
suffered almost beyond all power of endurance. I could get 
no rest. About three o'clock I fell into a troubled slumber, 
when my body and limbs jerked so that I fell off the bed, 
overturning the bath tub and hurting my limbs terribly. By 
the time I got things about me restored to order my strength 
seemed gone. With feelings of bitterness I asked myself, 
Why do I suffer all these things ? Sheer exhaustion caused 
me to fall asleep, and never did I slumber so sweetly. I 
thought I was carried to a large building where were many 
people. I sat by myself in a door, when everything about me 
changed to great light and beauty. Looking upward, the 
heavens above seemed one endless sea of smooth, crystal-like 
whiteness, while there appeared upon its surface a seraph or 
angel, whose brightness and dazzling whiteness and purity 
exceeded anything I ever saw or heard described. O the 
serenity, the peaceful happiness of the benign countenance, 
and the perfect purity that seemed to form the whole of the 
crystal whiteness. While gazing, entranced, enraptured, I 
heard a voice say, "It is to make you pure, all pure, within 
and without, like what you see, that you suffer what you do." 
I answered, looking down at my distorted limbs, " I will 
bear it all, and it will not be long until I can change these 
garments for one of spotless purity." I awoke with these 
words upon my lips, "I will try you as gold is tried ; I 
will refine you as silver is refined. In the furnace of affliction 
have I chosen you." This was but a dream, my sister, 
and no doubt some would say it signified nothing ; but to 
me it was a sweet vision in the night, and it quieted me as 
nothing else could have quieted me. It filled me with a 
glad happiness, and was sweet food for my tired and weary 



Letters 233 

soul for many days. How thankful we should be that amid 
the darkness of sin, unbelief, and the fiery darts from the 
enemy of our souls, we are given sweet songs and bright 
visions in the night. 

* * # * * * 

Give my love to the dear, sick sister. Tell her it 
gladdens me to feel that we will soon meet on the " shin- 
ing shore," to suffer and sin no more. I send special love 
to your mother. How glad poor father was to meet her on 
the railway train that morning, though too sick and weary 
to talk much to her. I am so glad you wrote to me. It is 
pleasant to renew the friendship of youthful days, the more 
so when friendship is sweetened by a stronger, sweeter tie, 
which, though begun on the shore of time, may be strength- 
ened and reunited in the land of never-ending bliss. Please 
write me whenever you can, even though you get no res- 
ponse. You cannot know just how much I prize letters 
from my kindred in Christ. Many dear, unanswered letters 
are before me now, which I desire to but cannot answer. 
I am very tired indeed. 

Affectionately yours in deep affliction, 

MARY PARKER. 



[Extracts from a letter to Eld. Harvey Wright of Indiana, 
acknowledging a present of money from the sisters ot the Lick 
Creek Church, of which he is pastor, and published in the Signs] 

October, 1890. 

How thankful I am for these precious love tokens. How 
they come into my darkened, painful life, like cheering sun- 
shine, and how they help to lift the weary load of debt and 
continuous needs that my untold suffering lays upon me, none 



234 Reminiscences and Letters 

can know save those who have in like manner been bereft of 
health and home, and father and mother, and all who feel any 
special right to look after and care for my imperative wants. 
How mysterious are the ways of Providence ! How 
various are the ways in which the Lord works and brings about 
events in human life ! Everything of an earthly nature is 
uncertain and transitory. Yesterday I saw the hearse pass my 
window containing a beautiful, white, flower-strewn casket, in 
which lay the lovely form of a bright young girl. Here again 
was another instance of the mysterious, incomprehensible 
dealings of Divine Providence. In her death, a beautiful, 
luxurious home is robbed of its sunshine, its chief joy. A 
grief-stricken father is robbed of his only daughter ; a heart- 
broken mother parts with her closest companion, her darling 
child ; schoolmates mourn the loss of their favorite ; the prin- 
cipal sheds tears when he sees the vacant seat of his dearest 
pupil. Everywhere this bright young life, which like a bloom- 
ing plant has been plucked from the stem, will be mourned 
and missed ; whilst I, sitting here in my room, lonely and 
alone, could drop out of this life scarcely leaving a vacancy. 
My dearest friends could but be glad that at last the aching 
heart had ceased to ache, the painful body ceased to suffer 
pain. But what can we say to these things ? It is the ruling 
and working of the infinite and mighty God. Who dares 
question His doings, or say that He has not the right to 
do what He will with His own, the same as has the potter 
power over the clay ? Feeling that I am nothing but a bur- 
den to my dear spiritual kindred, and an unceasing care to 
the dear ones under whose roof I am placed, much as I long 
for death I feel that from the depths of my heart I desire to 
say, "Thy will, O Lord, not mine, be done. ' ' Sometimes in the 
midst of all the deep suffering and gloom that surround me I 
am permitted to look away beyond it all, beyond the grave, 
to the world of perfect peace and rest, where my tired soul 



Letters 235 

shall at last be pillowed upon the tender Saviour's breast, 
where He Himself shall wipe all tears from my eyes, and give 
me a home at last, a home where the hearth-stone can never 
be left vacant, where there will be the missing of no beloved 
footfall, where no heart will ever bleed or break, but where, 
with dearest ties united in one unbroken chain, we shall sing 
the praises of our Redeemer forever, and forever adore our 
wondrous King. * * * * * 

I want to thank all my dear kindred in Christ in the east 
who have so kindly sent me tokens of sympathy, by helping 
me to bear the heavy weights affliction has laid upon me. O ! 
if yon could know how you have helped me, how your love 
and assistance have eased the awful heart-pangs, how my heart 
reaches out to each of you in love and gratitude too deep for 
utterance, you would certainly feel that it was indeed blessed 
to give. O ! will you not bear with me? Will you not think 
of me, now that winter is coming and a cold, gray dress is 
being spread over the earth, and when, during the long nights, 
others can cover up in warm, soft beds, I must sit on the edge 
of my bed alone in the cold ? O ! will you not then think of 
me, and ask the Lord to give me grace, and if it be His holy 
will call me to Himself? 

Begging you all to cast over this imperfect letter the 
sweet mantle of charity, and asking the dear sisters of Elder 
Wright's charge, who sent me their helpful token of sympa- 
thy, to accept my love and lasting thanks, I am, very 
unworthily, your sister in hope of a better life beyond the 
grave, 

MARY PARKER. 



236 Reminiscences and Letters 

[Extracts from the Signs. ~\ 

January 17, 1891. 
Mr. Samuel Bradbeer. 

My Dear Father in Israel : 
I fear my failure to acknowledge the receipt of your dear, 
kind letter, together with your generous, helpful gift, has caused 
you much anxiety. * * * Through the mercy of God the 
past week has found me clothed, and in my right mind, and able 
to again take up my feeble, imperfect writing. The very 
choicest of all my blessings, save the consciousness of the dear 
Saviour's presence and pardoning love, is this sweet inter- 
course I am permitted to enjoy through the medium of the 
pen with the dear people of God, who are the objects of His 
everlasting love and choice, and who in former times, we are 
told, spake often one to another. The same love is shed 
abroad in the hearts of the Lord's children to-day ; the same 
drawing together of the golden cord that unites us to one 
another and to Christ Jesus, through His redeeming blood and 
power and love. Oh ! if it were not for this love how could 
we bear up under the deep afflictions that beset us in this life ! 
If in this life only we had hope, would we not be of all crea- 
tures most miserable ? How great and wonderful seems the 
love that could save a wretch so vile as I ; that could take me 
up out of the horrible pit, out of the miry clay, set my feet 
upon a rock, establish my goings, and put a new song into 
my mouth, even praise to God. Wonder of wonders! unwor- 
thy, vile and sinful as I feel myself to be, that unto me, who 
truly am the least of all saints, should this grace be given ; yes, 
given. So many claim that they seek, and of themselves, or 
through personal efforts, obtain this great salvation ; but Paul 
says it was given to him ; and to every sin-sick soul, sunk in 
the depths of corruption and sin, must this grace be given, 



Letters 237 

freely and unconditionally, or alas ! they are lost throughout 
time and eternity, and must sink to the regions of everlasting 
torment. "By grace are ye saved, through faith, and that 
not of yourselves ; it is the gift of God. ' ' Blessed gift ! What 
sweetness does the word contain ! We are often made happy 
by gifts from friends, as I, dear father, was made happy by 
your gift, and those of other dear, kind kindred in Christ 
Jesus, at the glad Christmas time. But who ever gave a gift 
like the one given when on that glad morn the wise men came 
from the far country of the east and saw the Star of Bethle- 
hem, and found the blessed babe in the manger, wrapped in 
swaddling clothes, and knew it was the gift of God's dear and 
only Son, sent from the courts of heaven, "made a little 
lower than the angels," "made under the law, to redeem 
them that were under the law," and who by the shedding 
of His own precious blood was to save the Lord's chosen 
people from their sins ? Is it any wonder that one who had 
so long waited for His blessed coming, cried out, " Lord, 
now lettest thou Thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes 
have seen Thy salvation ? " O blessed gift ! O glorious legacy ! 
whose bright effulgent dawn brought to a perishing people 
such "glad tidings of great joy," and proclaimed to all, 
" Peace on earth, goodwill toward men." "And his name 
shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, the mighty God, the 
everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace;" each appellation 
containing a world of meaning, of might and power; yet the 
same who is called "a man of sorrows, and acquainted with 
grief; " the same lowly Nazarene, pitiful, merciful, crowned 
with thorns, and who wore the purple robe. O blessed Jesus ! 
dear Saviour of our souls ! will it not be glorious when we 
awake with his likeness, to dwell with him forever ! 
^ >K ^ * * 

Remember me, dear father, in love to your family, and 
the saints with whom you labor. Sincerely thanking you for 



238 Re7niniscences and Letters 

your gift and comforting letter, trusting I may hear again 
from you, and commending you to Jesus, who is love, I am, 
unworthily your sister, I hope, in Christ, 

MARY PARKER. 



[Reply to a letter from James Trask, of Illinois, who has 
been afflicted since 1854, and helpless since 1876.] 

New Holland, Q , February 18, 1891. 
Dear Brethren Beebe : 

I received the enclosed most touching letter a few days 
ago. I would at once respond privately, but the dear, afflicted 
brother forgot, I suppose, to give his address in full, thus leav- 
ing no way open by which I can speak any word of comfort 
or sympathy, save through The Signs. If you will kindly give 
Brother Trask' s letter space I would be glad, for I feel that 
the Lord's children are all as one family; and when one 
member suffers all should know of it, and should extend to 
him all the pity, help and comfort that it is possible for 
mortals to give. Surely, "Whatsoever doth make manifest 
is light:" and we feel that nothing but the light reflected 
from the Sun of righteousness could show Brother Trask, or 
any other poor sinner, the vileness and depravity of his heart. 
In no heart does He begin the work of grace but what He 
makes it perfect unto the day of Jesus Christ. It will not 
matter to Brother Trask nor myself on that glorious morn of 
the resurrection that our poor, painful limbs have been so 
drawn and deformed ; for if we have our garments made white 
in the blood of the Lamb, our bodies shall be raised spiritual 
bodies, fashioned like unto the Son of God ; and rest, sweet, 
longed-for rest, will be the more sweet because of the toil, the 
weariness, the unrest and pain we have undergone here. 
"There remaineth, therefore, a rest to the people of God." 
Not rest for a moment, an hour or a day, but rest throughout 



Letters 239 

eternity. Oh ! can we not afford to toil, to suffer, to endure 
hardships, while here, where we have no continuing city, 
when we are so sweetly assured that these afflictions work for 
us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory, and that 
at the end of this toilsome journey there is such rest, such joy, 
such beauty and holiness, as we not even can catch a glimpse 
of here, save it be now and then through a glass darkly, Oh ! 
very darkly? When I studied over the darkness of mind 
under which poor, dear brother Trask seems to labor, I was 
reminded of this Scripture, " Who is among you that feareth 
the Lord, that obeyeth the voice of His servant, that walketh 
in darkness, and hath no light ? Let him trust in the name 
of the Lord, and stay upon his God." I know of no better 
message to send to the poor, weary, tempest-tossed brother 
than just these few blessed words. "Trust in the Lord, and 
stay upon your God." "For this God is our God forever: 
He will be our guide even unto death." Are not such 
promises a refuge and strength ? Is not our God a very present 
help in all our trouble ? 

My poor brother, I too have distress so deep, pain so 
great, that were I to attempt a description it would sound like 
wrung-out sentences from a frenzied heart. To no one can I 
look for strength, to no one turn for help, but to Him who is a 
present help ; and it is only through effectual, fervent prayer 
that I am enabled to quiet myself and endure on until the 
blessed sound of that dearest of all voices calls, in accents 
sweet, "Child, thy Father calls : come home." O, sweet 
words ! Truly are they good tidings of great joy to the 
weary soul. 

May the dear Lord strengthen you upon your bed of 
languishing. May He make all your bed in your sickness, shed 
the light of His blessed Spirit about your soul, and cause you 
to trust and rest in His everlasting arms, is truly the prayer of 
your sister, who is also sunk in the depths of human suffering 



240 Reminiscences and Letters 

and woe, but whose eyes are lifted up unto the everlasting 
hills, from whence cometh her help. 

In deep sympathy, with much love to all the dear ones 
in the Lord, your sister in a blessed hope, 

MARY PARKER. 



[From the Signs. ~\ 

New Holland, Ohio, January 19, 1891. 
Dear Brethren Beebe : 

I am all alone in my room. It is half-past nine o'clock, 
and the little family have sought refreshing sleep in their 
rooms up stairs. All day to-day there has been a constant 
dropping in of callers, and not until half-past eight o'clock 
to-night did the droppings-in cease, and we were left to medi- 
tate upon the scenes that transpired during the day, and alas ! 
to lament the little that has been said and thought about Jesus 
during the entire day. With tender, regretful emotions do I 
call to mind other and better days in the dear little home 
where my dear father and I lived in close retirement, when 

" Jesus all the day long 

Was my joy and my song ; " 

and when, after the fall of the curtain of night, I would listen 
to my father's dear voice while supplicating at the great 
throne ; and I often felt, as did Jacob, " This is none other 
but the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven." How 
lonely and sad seems my mind to-night, because Jesus, that 
dearest of friends, the blessed, heavenly guest, has not come 
in at the closed door of my heart, and warmed the cold and 
weary soul by His dear presence and the sweet manifestations 
of His love. But amid the storms and dark waves that so tossed 
with fierce tempest the frail ship of my weary life is not Jesus 



Letters 241 

near ? Though I cannot see Him, as I stretch forth my own 
helpless hands, with arms too weak and short to save, will he 
not walk to me on the water ? Will not His dear, everlasting 
arms catch me and hold me within their restful embrace when 
I cry, " Lord, save, or I perish ? " As oft as I look up from 
my paper, through the lattice of my open window the silent 
rays of the moon beam upon me. As the poet sings ; 

" The moon that nightly rules the sky." 

But from whence does it receive its useful light ? From the 
sun we are told ; just as the church of God, which Solomon 
sings of, is " fair as the moon," and derives its light from the 
Sun of Righteousness, the immaculate Son of God. As the 
moon which now shines so beautifully over all the earth, with 
its pale, subdued light, shining upon the land and sea, rivers 
and mountains, making the whole earth a thing of beauty, 
though wrapped in its mantle of night, has no power, no 
warmth, no beauty nor light, only as it receives it from the 
natural sun, so in like manner is the church, the body of 
Christ, powerless and useless, an absolute nothing, without 
the King of holiness. O the depth and breadth, the great 
wonders which are presented to our limited, finite perception 
when we enter this unexplorable channel of infinity. So 
deep, so great are its mysteries, even Paul, who was exalted to 
the third heaven, and saw things not lawful for a man to utter, 
was made to exclaim, " O the depth of the riches, both of the 
wisdom and knowledge of God ! How unsearchable are His 
judgments, and His ways past finding out ! " To-night, as I 
look from my window out upon the bright, calm, moonlit 
scene, the myriads of stars studding the blue vault of the 
heavens, I wonder how any thinking, rational being could 
look upon a like picture and not have his thoughts uplifted to 
the great Being who formed all these wonders and beauties. 
Could the atheist really believe in his heart that such things 



242 Reminiscences and Letters 

are the result of nature ? Even those who claim so much for 
evolution must own there is no effect without a cause ; and if 
these wonderful planets owe their origin to mere natural forces, 
what is the origin of that power and force ? Must there not 
be some wonderful creative power back of all that ? Besides, 
how could they believe that this wonderful earth, with all its 
appurtenances, is kept in proper limits, made to keep up 
its regular revolving upon its axis, if an infinite wisdom and 
an unseen power did not rule all things. 

To-night, while most of the inhabitants of this hemisphere 
are wrapped in slumber, He who neither slumbers nor sleeps 
throws His everlasting arms of protection over the good and 
the bad, the saint and the sinner, keeps the billows ol the 
mighty ocean within bounds, controls the huge monsters of 
the deep with the same stroke with which he keeps the tiny 
brooklet in its course, cares for the minnows, feeds the ravens, 
cares for the tiny sparrows, not one of which soars on high, 
or falls to the ground without Him. How sweet it is to put 
one's trust in such a wise and holy Being, who has all power 
in heaven and in earth. Very truly does the holy word say, 
" They that trust in the Lord shall be as Mount Zion, which 
cannot be removed." Firmer, stronger, more immovable 
than the strongest, most lofty mountain is the everlasting 
Rock of our salvation. "Therefore will not we fear, though 
the earth be removed, and though the mountains be carried 
into the midst of the sea; though the waters thereof roar 
and be troubled ; though the mountains shake with the swell- 
ing thereof; there is a river, the streams whereof shall make 
glad the city of God." In this river of God's love do we not 
find a balm for all our wounds, a panacea for all our sicknesses ? 
And do we not long for 

" A thousand tongues to sing 
Our great Redeemer's praise ?" 

"Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed 



Letters 243 

on Thee." What a depth of meaning to the child of God 
have these words ! This is the peace of God, which passeth 
all understanding. When, after long days and nights of row- 
ing upon a storm-tossed sea, unable to see any light upon the 
shore, feeling that we are forsaken and lost amid the darkness 
of the awful deep, how sweet to hear the still, small voice, 
sweeter than the sweetest music, saying, " Peace ! be still !" 
Feeling ourselves hushed into quiet, as tenderly and sweetly 
as a babe cradled in the mother's arms, with peace filling every 
avenue of the soul, do we not realize that Jesus is with us on 
the storm-tossed waves, and that the delicious quiet and rest- 
fulness that now comes over the soul is indeed that peace 
which passeth all understanding? When this great wave of 
peace sweeps over the soul, how all turbulent evil passions are 
made to slumber. Being taken into His secret pavilion, rest- 
ing under the shadow of His wings, the troubles and trials of 
this transitory life dwindle into nothing, and our soul is full of 
love not only to our Saviour, but to His people. The sweet 
and holy power of the Spirit rests upon the soul, quieting all 
murmuring, and makes us willing to suffer, to bear all things 
He in His wisdom lays upon us, and makes us glad, yea, 
causes us to rejoice that we are thought worthy to be partakers 
of Christ's sufferings, that we may reign with Him in glory. 
Dear kindred in Christ, we have recently entered upon a 
new, untried year. Though to me, pinioned as I am to this 
couch, the days and years drag slowly, wearily along, yet in 
the silence of many a midnight have I been made to note the 
ticking of the clock, and as seconds glide quickly into 
minutes, and minutes into hours, I almost start at the rapidity 
of time; and deeply do I realize that "swift as a weaver's 
shuttle speed the years. ' ' But how it comforts one to think 
that each swift moment brings us nearer to our "house not 
made with hands, eternal in the heavens , " and that soon, if 
we are the chosen vessels of mercy, we shall enter into that 



244 Reminiscences and Letters 

sweet, everlasting rest that remains to the people of God. 
" Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into 
the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them 
that love Him." 

During the glad Christmas time, though suffering very 
severely physically, many hearts made generous by the love of 
God, were made to remember the poor, lame and halt one of 
their number (if one at all), and my weary heart was cheered 
and made happy by the many useful tokens and the dear let- 
ters of love that found their way to my sick chamber. Could 
you all know how it humbled me, how unworthy I felt and 
how happy, and how my gladdened soul went out in love to 
each dear brother and sister, and, most of all, to my ever- 
blessed Saviour, I think you too would be made to rejoice 
with me, and to render praise to our glorious Lord. I suffer 
too much and am too weak to privately respond to all these 
heaven-sent blessings, letters and gifts ; and that no one may 
feel neglected, I take this means to tender them my thanks. 
How sinful, unworthy and poor I feel ; how unfit to have the 
love of Jesus and his beloved people ; yet since my unprofit- 
able life is still spared to the opening of another year, my 
prayer is that the rest of my days may be spent in loving God's 
people, in sweet intercourse with them, and in honoring and 
extoling the name of Jesus. With deep, abiding, unfeigned 
love to all the household of faith, whose love and prayers and 
patience with me I so much crave, and commending you all 
to the faithful care of the Saviour, I am truly the least of all, 
if one of your number at all. 

MARY PARKER. 



Letters 245 

[Extracts from letters to Mr. and Mrs. Silas H. Durand.] 
We have left these letters to be the last looked over. 
There is not a page but is of some special interest ; but much 
of it is of a purely personal and confidential character, and 
of that which would be appropriate for the book we design to 
select, so far as we can, only what has not been presented 
with sufficient fullness elsewhere. Of course, in a corres- 
pondence with so many anxious, sympathizing friends, the 
same things must be, 111 substance, many times repeated ; 
for to each must be told something of the same, sad story of 
suffering, the same heart-rending details ; and those to whom 
she writes, when the soul is lifted in heavenly joy and praise 
above the pains of the afflicted body, will hear the same old 
story of wonderful grace and love through Jesus Christ. The 
variety that there is in the daily breathings of such a life as 
this of our dear sister, passed in such a sick room, cannot be 
of continued interest to those whose hearts are still satisfied 
with the things of this world. To them there must appear a 
weary sameness in the sad recitals of renewed consciousness 
to pain from day to day, and an unmeaning monotony in the 
repeated acknowledgment of the same heavenly blessings, 
received again and again. But there are those to whom these 
things are of never-failing interest, whose hearts are always 
touched by the story of suffering, whose emotions of sympathy 
make them wish to hear, over and over, all about the affliction 
and pain, seeking in what way they may soothe and soften, if 
not remove, the anguish; and whose hearts are glad when 
they know that the Lord has put gladness in the heart of the 
afflicted one ; who never tire of hearing the same words of 
prayer and thanksgiving, and the same songs of praise over- 
coming the groans of pain in the exercised soul, any more 
than they tire of " the light of the morning, when the sun 
riseth," or of " the tender grass springing out of the earth by 
clear, shining after rain." 



246 Reminiscences and Letters 

One most interesting and solemn thing to meditate upon 
is the cause of the changeful moods in the daily history of a 
tried and suffering soul. When the dear Lord withdraws His 
presence, and hides His face, there is darkness, gloom, doubts 
and even questionings, sometimes, as to the Lord's ways, as 
was the case with Job. At such a time, pain seems more pain- 
ful, and wrongs and cruelties are more deeply felt. But when 
the dear Saviour again appears, how changed all things appear. 
Light and gladness spring up, and seem to brighten every- 
thing, and the peace of God so "keeps the heart and mind 
through Christ Jesus," that only kindly, forbearing and for- 
giving thoughts and feelings arise, even toward those who have 
done, and are doing, most grievous wrongs, as in the case of 
Stephen. At such a time the whole being breathes forth the 
words, " Thy will, O Lord, not mine, be done." 

What a wonderful life is this of Mary Parker ! How 
wonderfully has she been tried ; tried beyond what can appear 
in these pages, or in any description from her pen. How 
wonderfully, also, has she been sustained, and what wonder- 
ful power has been given her to tell of the goodness of the 
Lord. The credit and praise are in no part due to her, nor 
does she claim or want it. A poor sinner saved by grace, how 
carefully and sweetly does she ascribe all power and praise to 
the dear name of Jesus. But what a witness she is of his love 
and faithfulness, and of his saving power and grace. Who 
that has tasted of the love of God can read what is written 
here without being melted under its power, and filled with 
praise. I can truly say, that while preparing what is in these 
pages to appear in its present form, going over it again and 
again in hours taken from needed rest, I have sometimes felt 
such a fullness of love in my heart going out to the God of 
Salvation, to this dear sister and to all the afflicted and poor 
people of God everywhere, that the place has become a Bethel 
to my soul. S. H. D. 



Letters 247 

February 24, 1890. 
Dear Brother and Sister : 

As you two are one, and your dear letters followed each 
other so closely, and as I am forced to economize in the matter 
of strength, I trust you will pardon me for addressing you 
both at one time. I think I feel my intellectual and spiritual 
deficiencies more, and realize more forcibly the truth of the dear 
Saviour's words, " Without Me ye can do nothing," when 
I attempt to converse either face to face, or with pen and ink, 
with those who " are wise unto salvation," than at any other 
time. * * * Oh ! you cannot know how deeply I feel all 
this. What an unstable, fluctuating thing is the human, finite 
mind ! With all our boasted self-control, how very little does 
it lie in our power to control our own minds. Your letter, 
sister Clarice, came to me first, and must have passed mine to 
sister Bessie somewhere along the mail route. After reading 
your letter, with its thoughts and feelings, which seemed in 
sweet accord with my own, I felt the dear chain which inter- 
links one heaven-born soul with another drawn sweetly, 
closely about me, while the dear presence of our divine 
Redeemer seemed to fill my soul with its holy incense, and I 
was made to rejoice once more in God, my Saviour. In a day 
or two your husband's letter was received, which so filled 
me with quietude and strength, that I felt exceedingly happy, 
and so deeply thankful to the Giver of all good for the sweet 
Christian fellowship and love I was permitted to enjoy with 
the dear saints, and for the interest you both manifested in 
one who feels so unworthy. 

Elder Durand, most sincerely do I lhank you for your 
expressions to me of the kindly regard with which you assured 
me I am held by the dec.r kindred in the East ; also, do I 
thank you for your frank expressions concerning the trouble 
to which I alluded in my letter to sister Bessie. Your words 



248 Reminiscences and Letters 

greatly comforted and strengthened me. * * * I am 
deeply pained to see those who profess to be led by the spirit 
of Christ, whose fruits are love, meekness, gentleness and a 
freedom from all malice, governed by a spirit so directly the 
opposite. We learn that our divine Master is a God of love — 
indeed, that He is love; and when we are in the exercise of 
His blessed spirit we, too, are governed by love — love to Jesus, 
love to one another, and good-will towards all. How often 
does Jesus admonish His followers " to love one another; " 
and Himself declares it an evidence of His indwelling spirit 
when we do love one another. How sweetly do these words 
fall upon the ear, coming from His own dear, divine lips : 
" This is my commandment, that ye love one another, as I have 
loved you." "As I have loved you !" Oh ! how precious 
such words. How has He loved us ? Why, so dearly that 
He gave even His life for us, that He saved us, even though 
we were dead in trespasses and sins. Did He see anything 
beautiful in us? Were we not everyone as "black as the 
tents of Kedar ? " If, then, He so loved us, ought not we to 
find it easy to love one another, to forgive one another, and 
overlook each other's faults? Oh ! dear ones, I want to be 
gentle with those who err, ever ready to forgive, and desirous 
to have them turn from the error and evil of their ways. 
How terrible it must be to feel bitter against one of His little 
ones. But when under the influence of the Spirit which 
" thinketh no evil," how easy it is to love our brethren, how 
pleasant "to dwell together in unity," and to sit under the 
shadow of our King Emanuel with great delight. * * * 
I have written too much I fear, but do pardon me. I 
would love to say many more things which can never be told 
on paper. Will not sister Bessie, or some of you, write me 
ere long ? Oh ! that the sweet fellowship and love that has so 
pleasantly begun may have no interruption, but that it may 
be strengthened and the link reunited on the shores of 



Letters 249 

immortal glory. Remember me in love to the saints every- 
where, sister Bertha, sister Bessie and the dear little ones. 

Dear brother and sister, do overlook anything amiss I may 
have said. I do not want to wrong any one, or speak evil of 
any one. Better that a millstone be about my neck. I am 
so glad the dear brethren in the East are " keeping the unity 
of the spirit in the bond of Peace " in unbroken fellowship 
and love. 

Very unworthily your sister in affliction and trial, 

MARY PARKER. 



August 20, 1890. 
Mrs. Clarice E. Durand. 
My Dear Sister : 
Your dear husband's letter came to me day before yester- 
day morning. I had been unconscious for a day and night, 
and, I am told, very delirious. It was caused by one of my 
terrible chills, which seldom, and, indeed, never now, fail to 
occur once a week. I asked my brother to write a card for 
me acknowledging the receipt of the money-order, as I could 
not hold up my head. Oh ! my sister, it made me so happy 
to feel that, in my bed, the dear everlasting arms were 
underneath me amid all the pain and disquiet, and when I 
lay helpless as an infant in every way ; and that, while I 
could not even ask or desire a blessing, the dear compas- 
sionate Saviour held one in store for me, in thus opening a 
way once more through His dear people to have my many 
imperative needs supplied. You would not wonder, my 
sister, that my heart overflows with thankfulness, and my eyes 
with tears, when I think of your dear husband's kindness, and 
you, his family, and the many dear ones of the Master's 
household whose hearts have been moved with compassion 



250 Remi?iiscences and Letters 

toward me, could you have been in my sick-room the past 
several weeks and have seen my suffering and my needs. 
Since your husband was here I have had letters from sister 
Barbara Grafton and brother Milton Dance. Sister G. 
spoke so kindly of you. She must be a lovely sister. Sister 
Clarice, I do so want to make something for you, something 
you can keep, perhaps after I am gone. But I have been so 
oppressed for breath I could not do any art needle-work this 
summer. You have all done so much good for me. Oh ! you 
can never know just how much of the weary, weary burden 
your dear, thoughtful efforts have lifted from me. 



August 28, 1890. 

I do hope and pray that you may be both spiritually and 
physically benefitted, invigorated and refreshed by your North- 
ern tour, and that your visit may be to the glory of God and for 
the good of his "afflicted and poor people." Elder Durand, 
this one expression of our dear Lord clearly describes the people 
of God. "Afflicted and poor." They are also called in the 
New Testament a " peculiar people." * * * 

Often I am filled with wonder when I read of the same 
lowly feelings from the pen of the wise and the learned, that 
I do from the most illiterate. All feel the same soul-sickness, 
the need of the same only physician, the same self-loathing 
and the same hunger and thirsting after the righteousness 
found only in Christ Jesus. This striking similarity was 
brought so forcibly to my mind when I read the letter of 
dear brother Gibson you enclosed in yours to me, and then 
meditated upon the beautifully written letter I had just 
received from our dear brother Coulter, of Philadelphia. The 
one showing the lack of any natural schooling, the other bear- 
ing the marks of much mental culture ; yet grace, like a beau- 
tiful jewel, shone just as brilliantly all through the one as the 



Letters 251 

other. Both gave forth that " certain sound" whose sweet 
music never falls from the lips or pen of any but the heaven - 
taught. And the language which falls familiarly upon our 
ear, and which we can understand, proceeds only from those 
who have found all their own righteousness "as filthy rags." 
But the language which flows in upon me now from every 
side is a strange one, which tells of the wonders man can do, 
how many souls they bring to Christ and of the many " who 
have accepted Christ." O, my brother, this is a strange 
language to me. How it would strengthen me could I tell 
you all that is in my heart, and how severely and strangely 
I have lately been tried. I have wanted to write to you, yet 
I always hesitate to do so, feeling my ignorance as I do. But 
just at this time I feel more than ever wholly unfit to write 
you, and have great lack of spiritual food and knowledge. 
Have you ever been made to sit down by the cold streams 
of Babylon, while its turbulent waters sent their noisy, dis- 
cordant sounds in upon your weary soul? Do you know just 
how hard it would then be to "sing the Lord's song?" 

I think it causes me the more to look away to Zion,,dear 
Zion, that " quiet habitation," "whose builder and maker is 
God." Not the poor, frail structure of sinful, presumptuous 
man, who builds upon the sand, and when the storms wash 
upon his frail structure it falls to the ground. I do not want 
to harbor unkind, unjust feelings toward any, but the language 
of my soul is, "Come out from among them; be ye separ- 
ate;" and I cannot feel otherwise if I do endure persecution 
on account of it. * * * It seems so good, when I am 
very ill and helpless, when needs come up that cannot be put 
aside, not to be so distressed as to how the bill is to be met. 
It seems very strange and enjoyable, also, to have the various 
conveniences which the liberality of the dear brethren have 
provided me with, through your solicitations. It had been so 



252 Reminiscences and Letters 

long since any unusual comforts had been provided me, I had 
become so accustomed to practicing self-denial that I scarce 
can realize it is poor, insignificant, burdensome I, who am 
thus pleasantly provided for. The air pillows, the desk I had 
made to order, and, above all, the dear, most-convenient little 
invalid reading desk, sent me by that dear, kind brother, John 
McConnell, are blessings for which I cannot be half thankful 
enough. The neighbors seem wonderfully delighted about it, 
as do also my brother and wife. The invalid desk is just 
wonderful in the many useful ways it can be adjusted, and the 
comfort I can take in reading, writing and taking my meals. 
Frequently does some one remark, " that minister's visit was a 
most fortunate thing for you. " Surely, dear brother, the dear 
Lord sent you as a ministering spirit to me. The past three 
months have greatly tried my physical strength and powers of 
endurance. No tongue could tell how intensely I have 
suffered for breath, and how distressing was the delirium, how 
unbearable the pain. But the cool, balmy days of September, 
with its mellow sunlight will soon be here, when I trust I shall 
feel better. Physicians have all told me I might look to be 
worse always during the heated season. Brother John Barton, 
of Arizona, was lately on a visit to brother Stipp's family in 
Oregon. They wished me to take the treatment of Dr. 
(brother) Green, of Atlanta, Ga., who makes dropsy a speci- 
alty, and brother Barton kindly offered to furnish the money. 
Brother C. W. Anderson and many others had urged me to 
try the same treatment; but I had a correspondence with Dr. 
Green long ago, and on learning the nature of my disease, he 
declined to undertake my case. 

Please give my dear love to Elder William Quint and all 
the dear ones in Maine who may think of me. If only I could 
have a long talk with you, face to face ; but if such privilege 
were granted, doubtless my sense of ignorance and inferiority 
would utterly silence me. 



Letters 253 

November, 1890. 

I am some better, but so nervous and weak from recent 
suffering I can scarce write at all. Will you not, dear brother, 
kindly thank the dear friends who sent me this last blessed 
offering ? Oh ! what am I, that I should be thus favored, thus 
kindly, tenderly cared for by dear Jesus, and His beloved 
people? How often do I ask Him to guide me in these bless- 
ings, which fall from His hand as distilling dew, causing me 
to do all things with an eye single to His glory, and to even 
spend these offerings in godly fear ; for the money coming to 
me in this way seems as something sacred, to be handled 
carefully and prayerfully. 

Even in all the darkness, the pain, the sorrow of my 
poor life, how many of God's choice blessings fall, how His 
goodness and love shine through the darkness, causing me to 
see much beauty. Amid the thorns and brambles, many 
radiant and fragrant flowers spring up, which proclaim the 
goodness of God, and show forth his praise. But it seems to 
me when I set about to write I paint my pictures all dark, 
and leave out all the radiance and beauty and gleams of sun- 
light. When I get stronger I will write you and your dear 
wife as fully about the condition of my room as possible, if 
my heart does not fail me. I feel in the mood to write now 
if I could still the wild throbbing of heart and nerves ; but I 
cannot. Tell dear little Edith I want to write to her but am 
too sick. 



December 2, 1890. 

I promised in the last brief line I wrote to you to write 
you more fully concerning the heating facilities of my room 
at night. * * * No matter how cold the body is, the 
bad limb is burning hot, and it is not an unusual thing for me 
to be forced to wet the bandages in ice-water before morning. 



254 Reminiscences and Letters 

Of course this is not the case only in very cold weather. They 
always put in a large piece of coal on retiring ; but if they 
would fill the stove it would suffocate me ; I could not bear 
it. I have always tried to endure these things, as I have my 
affliction, and have accepted them as inevitable. But recently 
I have wondered if it would be doing wrong for me to get one 
of those self-feeding stoves which needs to have the fuel 
replenished only every twenty-four hours, and which would 
keep my room an even temperature day and night. This, 
my dear friends, would be the only way possible to in any 
way alleviate the discomfort of the cold weather. But would 
it be right, situated as I am financially, to make such an out- 
lay? * * * What would you all advise me to do? * * * 
After all, perhaps I had better just try to be "content with 
such things as I have," remembering that it is just poor, 
unworthy, insignificant Mary Parker, and no one else, who 
must suffer, and that I don't deserve one-half that I have. My 
people are very patient with me. I know it is hard on them 
to have one in my condition so ceaselessly and so long. 
Surely, surely, the end cannot be very, very far off, the suffer- 
ing has seemed to so increase the past few weeks. O for 
patience and grace to bear until the end. Sister Bessie's 
words to me were so soothing where she wrote, "Jesus will 
help you bear the pain. He knows all about it." Yes, I 
believe He does ; and often when I just give up, and think, 
Oh ! I cannot endure it longer, I feel His soothing presence, 
and, "He giveth His beloved sleep." Sister Clarice, your 
letter was indeed a solace to me. 



January i, 1891. 
My Dear Sister Clarice : 

Very greatly do I desire to write to you and sister Bessie, 
your husband and the dear little ones. There are many things 



Letters 255 

I wish to say to you all, but I continue to suffer so, to be so 
very weak and ill, that if I write at all it must needs be briefly. 
About the time Elder Durand wrote me concerning the base- 
burner stove my limbs which had been throwing off, I think, 
a gallon of water every twenty-four hours, suddenly quit dis- 
charging. One long, hard chill succeeded another, both 
limbs became inflamed, intensely painful and swollen, while 
the body, face and neck swelled to a degree that made me 
almost unrecognizable. This continued over nine weeks then 
the left limb again opened, but the discharge is too scant to 
give me the relief I so much need, and my sufferings seem 
very great. Both limbs look as if they had been dipped in 
boiling water, and both have to be bandaged in wet cloths, 
to do which, quite consumes my time and strength. My 
stove is the greatest earthly comfort I have. But for it I 
know not what I should do. It causes me to rest better at 
night, as I do not have to be weighted down with clothing, 
and the temperature of the room is uniform both day and 
night. It is so much cleaner, and does not emit any gas or 
smoke. Sister Lottie is greatly pleased. Brother fills the 
magazine morning and evening, and no one has any care with 
it whatever. I know not how to be thankful enough. The 
little card for a "shut-in " came to me Christmas day, and as 
I read the beautiful poem I could not restrain my tears. No 
words of mine could better express my feelings. I presume 
you have heard of the society called the " Shut-In Society." 
Some years ago a lady was visiting here who is now a mis- 
sionary in Japan. She told me much about the society. A 
short time afterward I got a postal from the lady president 
informing me that my name had been sent them, and I was 
now a member. The society has its seat in Brooklyn, N. Y. 
A number of letters soon followed my " installation." They 
send me a little magazine called the " Open Window," from 
which I occasionally get some delicious crumbs of comfort; 



256 Reminiscences and Letters 

but the most of it is Arminian. Dear little Edith's and 
Mildred's very pretty Christmas tokens were among the 
pleasant offerings that made me so happy on the glad Christ- 
mas day. The dear Lord bless their generous little hearts ! 
How I would love to caress and thank them face to face. 
You asked me about fruits : I enjoy almost any kind except 
apricots and plums. Apples are really a medicine for me, but 
they were a failure in this locality. Day before Christmas a 
friend in southern Ohio sent me a basket of russets, which are 
a great treat. Often when my meals are brought, I am suffer- 
ing so I cannot touch anything. When smothered very much 
I dare not take food. 

Two kind sisters, of Mays Lick, Ky., sent me a Christ- 
mas box, in which was turkey, nuts, candies, and oranges. 
It made me so happy to be thus kindly remembered. Brother 
and Mrs. McConnell's box contained many things, both 
beautiful and useful, which gladdened my heart. Oh ! the 
goodness of my blessed Lord; the kindness and watch-care of 
my indulgent heavenly Father ! It causes my heart to melt 
and my eyes to fill with tears ; and all the while I am so sin- 
ful. I cannot read of Jesus, write about Him, or seek Him in 
prayer, so oblivious do I become to everything save the pain 
of this sinful body. But, surely, my sister, before the coming 
of another Christmas morn I will have entered the portals of 
eternal day, — will have passed beyond the gates of death to 
awake in the likeness of the dear Redeemer, to "be clothed 
upon with my house which is from heaven." This is " New 
Year' s Day. ' ' How the going out of the old year and the coming 
in of a new untried year, the events of which we know nothing 
about, fills us with sober, chastened thought. How the good- 
ness of God, as a sheltering being, has been round about us 
all thus far on the rugged journey of life. How helpless do 
we lie in His hands, and how dependent we are upon His 



Letters 257 

goodness and mercyfor all future time. Sister Clarice, your 
letters have been very precious and dear to me, and all the 
while I feel we are being brought into a closer, sweeter union. 
Oh ! what is one half so sweet as the love of our dear Jesus shed 
abroad in the heart, binding us to Him and to one another 
through the divine influence ? I must close as I am growing 
sick and faint. Tell the little darlings the sick woman would 
love to send them something if she could only walk about to 
get it. Kiss them for me. 

Sincerely your friend, and, I hope, sister in Christ, 

MARY PARKER. 



April 10, 1891. 

Thank you for the new thought regarding what I should 
do. I have begun as you suggest, and will, by the help of the 
Lord, do all I can. You can help me by praying. Oh ! will 
you not ? and ask Clarice and sister Bessie to ask the Lord to 
guide my pen and control my thoughts. Do you think I can 
do what you say ? If only I did not despise myself and all I 
do. With this I send you some matter to use or destroy. 
Will send you what I write soon. 



April 2 2d. 

I send you another roll of manuscript in two numbers. 
It has been written under great adversity, and amid all sorts 
of interruptions, and is, oh ! so full of imperfections. I feel 
very timid about having any of you read it, yet, if any of you 
could have witnessed my pain, have become fully acquainted 
with my condition the past two weeks, I think you would 
wonder, indeed, that I have done the little I have, even this 



258 Reminiscences and Letters 

imperfectly. Many times 1 can write only a line, a sentence, 
a thought. I had two severe chills the past week, and the 
week before pleurisy of the right lung, and had to have a 
physician all the while. It has been utterly out of the ques- 
tion for me to have the photographer come ; and my expenses 
have been so increased, I fear I may have to give it up, if well 
enough. I shall have to go into my summer quarters just as 
soon as I gain a little more strength. I am using wine, which 
seems to invigorate me a little. A card or a line, after you 
decide as to the merit of the writing I now send, would be a 
relief. I have made no copies ; I could not. It is sent you 
just as it first occurs to my mind. I am thankful, O my 
brother, for your kind, encouraging words. Sister Bessie's 
letter, reaching me Saturday evening last, was most soothing 
to my lonely heart ; for I felt like one forsaken and forgotten 
all of last week ; and oh ! I was so sick in body. Dear Attie 
C. (the dear Lord bless her) continues to send her breathings 
of the pure incense of dear Jesus' holy, purifying love. There 
has an incident occurred in my spiritual journey; I so want 
to tell you all of it when I get able, if I can do it. 



April 30. 

Your letter, and one from dear sister Attie C, came 
yesterday, but I was too ill to open and read them until to- 
day. I have to be sick, indeed, when anything like that takes 
place. My chill lasted over twelve hours ; then came fever 
and delirium, with swelling, inflammation of the limbs, obstin- 
ate vomiting and the most excruciating pains of both body 
and limbs. When the attack first seizes me, until I can get 
myself under the influence of opiates, I think I cannot, Oh ! I 
cannot endure it. It is so hard, when so cold and sick, to 
have to charge the syringe and use the hypodermic treatment, 



Letters 259 

but I have it to do. I break so many hypodermic needles, 
and they are so costly. My attack was as severe this time as 
any I ever had. I feel as though a great storm had passed 
over me, and I now experience the calm that usually follows 
such an outburst. These attacks seem to consume the water, 
and I hope to be better when I again gain strength. 



Indeed, it would be impossible to give you even an out- 
line of the countless needs afflictions such as mine call for. 
To know them one would have to be here awhile. A lady 
said to me the other day, " how very little do the kind friends 
who write to you know of your real condition." It is very 
true. •£ *l» »i» 

Since last I wrote you, I have received from brother 
Coulter and other dear friends, in Philadelphia, sister Maria 
Reese, of Kentucky, and sister Benedict, sums amounting, with 
$5.00 from my tenant, to $16.00. Now, dear brother, I feel 
that the dear Lord looks after me, that He will care for all my 
needs; and I feel it would be wrong for me to take the money 
you sent, who are one of His dear, faithful servants. Since 
He has opened the hearts of others to minister to me, I must 
return the money ; but I do not want to act rashly. If you 
will tell me I may return it, I would feel much relieved. I 
I trust you will understand my feelings. I have been open and 
frank with you, and I beg you to help me do that which is 
right. Surely, I have no wish for money only enough to defray 
my absolute needs. The money the sister sent me I will 
retain ; but, my kind brother, I cannot feel that it is right to 
retain yours, since my present needs are already supplied. 
When I can dispense with fuel my burdens in that line will be 
lessened. Since I first began to receive help I have paid 
several debts. I think if I can get my rents in the future ($5.00 
a month, out of which comes repairing and delinquencies. 



260 Reminiscences and Letters 

eds.), I can get along, at least I trust there will be no need 
of further appeal. 



I mention these things that you may have a better idea 
of my weights. But oh ! I do not want to burden my dear 
spiritual or earthly kindred. But I am helpless, helpless in all 
its bitter meaning. I can only be still, and know that He is 
God, quietly submitting to His will, who "works and none 
can hinder," trusting and hoping that it all helps to make up 
the sum of the " all things " which " work together for good 
to them that love God, to them who are the called according 
to His purpose. ' ' 



May ii, 1891. 

How very near and dear you and your dear family seem 
to me. As the acquaintance and intercourse lengthen, the 
dear, tender cord of sweet Christian fellowship and love 
strengthens, and the natural and spiritual regard deepens ; at 
least it is so with me. I have finished the little story, and 
it is, like everything having any of my individual marks or 
characteristics, very, very imperfect. Had it not been for so 
wishing to fulfill your wishes, and above all, had not your 
words of approval stimulated and strengthened me, I should 
never have completed it, though I confess it cost me no 
mental labor. You wrote, " do not study what you will say, 
but just write your thoughts as they come into your mind." 
If it possesses any merit, the credit is all due to you and my 
blessed Lord. If you wish to change anything, or to suppress 
anything, do not hesitate to do it. The poem is one I read 
many years ago. I could not rid myself of the impression to 
write it. Do as you like about inserting it. 



Letters 261 

During the 12 or 15 hours in which I am in those terrible 
chills, I am in such a state of mind that the time is ever after- 
ward an entire blank to me ; I can recall nothing. Day after 
to-morrow, if I am not in a chill, the artist will come from 
Washington C. H. to take a negative for the book. I have 
not been able to move, but feel better for a day or so, and 
hope to move soon. You will remember to pay to yourself 
the money you have advanced ; and, as I have been so obedient 
as not .to disobey you with regard to the money, you must 
favor me in paying all expenses out of the book funds before 
you send a penny to me. 



July 2, 1891. 

Your kind favor of June 30th reached me last evening. 
It is all of the goodness and tender mercy of God that I am 
so wondrously blessed with the Christian love and fellowship, 
the sympathy and unselfish friendship of you and your dear 
family, and not that I am at all worthy, or that " there is 
anything in me to merit esteem," or cause the hearts of the 
dear people of God to be thus kindly drawn toward me. But 
oh ! it is precious to us when we feel His wondrous love flow 
into our hearts, and then go out to our dear kindred in Him, 
who are all alike " chosen in the furnace of affliction." Your 
preface is all that I could wish it to be. I have no suggestions 
whatever to make. There is nothing to jar on even my 
sensitive nature. It was good of you to send your manuscript 
to me ; but, indeed, you ought not to have taken such trouble, 
for I speak truly, my brother, anything that you or your dear 
wife or sister would write or do for me would always seem just 
right, I am sure. You all seem to understand my feelings, 
needs and desires, all save my glaring defects ; these your 
abundant charity causes you to pass by, I suppose. Do please 
not to hurry or. weary yourselves over the work. There is 



262 Reminiscences ami Letters 

nothing to cause haste in the matter. I thank you, oh ! so 
much, for your dear, kind, solicitous inquiries about my tem- 
poral needs. But the money dear sister Bessie sent me, and 
sister Susie Saunders, together with a sum sent by dear sister 
Rounsavell to-day, will procure all the comforts within my 
reach. Oh ! I am so happy, thinking of the wonderful, won- 
derful goodness of my adorable Master, my Heavenly Lover 
and King, that I can scarce keep quiet upon my couch of pain. 
And then the love, the sweet and holy incense that flows from 
the one great Fountain Source into the heart, permeating for 
the time every fibre of our being, the true "fullness of Him 
that filleth all in all," and going out to each dear brother and 
sister, binding us so sweetly, so closely together, and in His 
wonderful omnipotence and omnipresence filling all space, so 
that nothing intervened between spirit and spirit, thus causing 
soul to commune with soul. Oh ! my brother, this is the kind 
of joy that is "unspeakable and full of glory; " and my poor, 
stammering tongue cannot tell it, my feeble powers cannot 
utter it. Your dear wife wrote me such a dear, consoling letter 
while you were at the last Association ; another also more 
recently. Oh ! how it surprises, yet gladdens, my poor, lonely 
heart to learn that the dear people of God do love and remem- 
ber me. Yet we read that "love begets love," and surely I 
do love all who bear the mark and impress of my blessed 
Saviour. My bad ulcer is paining me terribly, and the odor 
is very bad ; but the limb is still " weeping" copiously, so that 
bodily pain is much lessened. For this I also praise and 
bless the Lord. 

Pray for me all of you. Your letter was very consoling 
indeed. I am glad if the Lord so will that we are to see each 
other in the flesh once more. You all become nearer and 
dearer, as does also my precious Saviour, and, I think, all of 
this beloved people. How blessed the hope that we will all 
meet beyond the river of death, never more to part. 



Letters 



263 



July 10. 

I am terribly prostrated, and have been in a stupor all 
the week. Any undue excitement or over-exertion is sure to 
result in the utter prostration of all the powers, and stupor 
and semi-unconsciousness hold me like a vice until my system 
again rises to its normal condition, and the powers of recu- 
peration again begin to work. It is as distressing as acute 
suffering, for I am conscious of all that is said and done about 
me, yet am as powerless as the dead to arouse myself to action. 

Sister Alma McNaughten came Saturday, my brother and 
wife and little daughter, a nephew and wife, the wife of my 
dear, deceased soldier brother and her husband, came Sunday. 
Other friends called, numbering twenty-one in all. Altogether 
it was too much for me. Tell dear sister Bessie I received her 
most comforting letter last night, and will write to her all 
about my visit with sister Alma McNaughten soon as I become 
strong enough. 

How precious, above all things else, is the marvelous 
kinship with the blessed Saviour and those bound to me 
through him. How sweet to my soul, amid all earthly sights 
and sounds, is the conscious feeling that " One greater than 
Solomon is here," whose presence is so infinitely more dear 
than that of any other. How sweet to feel that though our 
Prince and Saviour is so high, yet will he make his dwelling 
with the lowly, with those who are of no consequence in the 
sight of men. 

With much love to all, I am your unworthy but trusting 
and loving sister, 

MARY. 



264 Reminiscences and Letters 

October, 1889. 
To Miss Edith : 

Will my dear little friend, Edith, please accept this small 
offering as a token of love from her sick friend in Ohio ? If it 
could give her the pleasure her little gift gave the poor invalid 
it would be all I could wish. I have showed both the perfume 
bag and your letter to all my dearest friends, who have 
admired and enjoyed them almost as much as I. The lady 
who teaches the small children, said, "Poor little thing! I 
know just how hard she labored to write and spell her words 
correctly." And her kind, blue eyes filled with tears. The 
school-buildings are just across the street from here, and this 
lady sometimes sends her little pupils to my sick room with 
their slates and charts for me to see how nicely they work. I 
enjoy having them come so much, for I dearly love little 
children. I am glad you and little Mildred enjoyed a play 
in the straw. Have all the fun you can, my dear, you and 
sister ; for after awhile you will be too large to have such nice 
times. I often think of you, and wonder how you look ; if 
your eyes are blue or dark, your hair golden, or brown, or 
black. We used to have a little girl just your age, you know, 
whom we loved, O so dearly ; but she is no longer here ; but 
in her stead has come a tall, fair girl, who can drive her mama 
out riding, and take horseback rides herself on our lovely 
drives. 

I trust you will sometimes think of your sick friend, who 
can never go out into the lovely sunshine, to enjoy the beauti- 
ful flowers and trees, and hear the birds sing. I hope you will 
write to me again in some future time. Kiss mama, auntie, 
and sister Mildred for me. Give my kind regards to your 
papa, and believe me your true and ever grateful friend, 

MARY PARKER. 



Letters 265 

[Extracts from letters to Bessie Durand.] 

New Holland, Ohio, 

June, 1884. 
Miss Bessie Durand. 

Very Precious Sister in Christ: 

Weak and ill in body, and feeling a painful sense of 
my inability to write, yet I am constantly filled with such 
heart-yearning toward you, such an irresistible desire to once 
more address you, that I have concluded to lay all fears and 
scruples aside, and be governed by the promptings of my 
heart. Sometimes I feel so ashamed of my letters, that are 
so like myself, so full of self, that I can but cry out, "Oh ! 
what have I done ! Why have I allowed any of my imperfect 
letters to appear before the public? " At such times I think 
I will never write again ; I will hide myself in the seclusion of 
my sick-room, and will never more write a line of either 
praise or complaint. But such resolves are made only to be 
broken, and I write, it seems, dear sister, not because I so 
much want to, but simply because I feel compelled to. Oh ! 
my sister, if you could only come to see me, as do others ; if 
I could but look into your dear face, and exchange thoughts 
about our joys and griefs, our fears and hopes, what an inex- 
pressible pleasure it would be. You say you wish I could sit 
under the sound of your brother's voice. It would indeed be 
a very great comfort. I can never forget with what liberty 
and ability he proclaimed the glorious gospel, and with what 
comfort and sweetness it was received by us all, when he was 
at our dear home church, at Scott's Creek. How good it is 
to think of your brother, and other ministers, who, in the 
midst of error and delusion still remain steadfast in the 
truth. 



266 Reminiscences and Letters 

How important it is for Christians to " walk worthy of 
the vocation wherewith they are called," and that they 
adorn the doctrine by "a. well-ordered life and a godly 
conversation." * * * I should deem it a precious 
favor, indeed, to see you, and hear you converse upon the 
things that we both hold so dear. You speak truly; I 
have many kind friends, who greatly lighten the weary, 
weary load of affliction by their tender ministrations. There 
is scarce a day but I receive flowers, some choice fruit and 
other tokens of thoughtful kindness. How I wish I were 
worthy to be the recipient of such attentions from the dear 
ones of Christ's kingdom ; but I feel all the while, Oh ! so 
sinful, so insignificant, so unworthy. I send much love to 
your brother and wife, also to the dear saints with whom you 
meet. May the Lord be very near you, dear sister, shed His 
love abroad in your heart, and enable you to rejoice with joy 
that is unspeakable. I really did not mean to write at so great 
a length. Thanking you for your precious letter, and asking 
you to write again, I am, affectionately, 

Your unworthy sister, 

MARY PARKER. 



July, 1884. 

When the heart is filled with emotion, either sad or 
joyous, how inadequate seem all words to express our 
feelings. When the heart throbs and palpitates with intense 
love, how far short does our language seem to express the full- 
ness of it. So it is with me since your dear letter came. 
What happy emotions were awakened, and I thought, O if I 
could but see you, if I could but hold your dear hand and tell 
you how much I love you, how surprised I was that you 
should care to write to me. You have often been in my 



Letters 267 

day dreams, and when asleep many times I have dreamed you 
were with me. 

Your letter found me prostrated with one of the severe 
attacks which I so frequently have. I was brought, unusually 
low this time, was very weak, and it did seem to me and my 
friends that the frail life-cord must break asunder, and the 
pain-tossed body at last be at rest. But I am now in my usual 
state, save that I am weaker. I had great mental depression, 
was bowed down under a painful sense of loneliness and deser- 
tion, and each sentence in your letter came to me like a minis- 
tering spirit, soothing the aching heart, and bidding, "Peace, 
be still " to the weary, troubled spirit. Surely you were made 
an instrument to comfort a tried little one, if I dare make so 
high a claim. When thus the wine and the oil are poured 
into our hearts, and the song of redeeming love is awakened 
by the chords ^eing touched by some congenial spirit, how 
sweet are the vibrations, how soft and low the tones, and how 
like music wafted from the far off, sinless shore, it seems to us. 
Little less beautiful and sweet could be this song when sung 
by angel tongues, and chanted upon harps of gold j for, 
methinks, it is the same glad song of grace, free grace, that we 
begin to sing when we first lay aside all self-righteousness, and 
find righteousness and peace in our great Redeemer and Head; 
only we shall take it up in a gladder, more uninterrupted strain 
on the bright shore of immortality. Oh ! how wonderful is 
redeeming love ! From the one great source, the Fountain 
of eternal life, it flows into the heart of each chosen child of 
grace, and is a golden chain which binds heart to heart, and 
causes the children of the Lord to love one another through 
all the vicissitudes of this life ; and it is this love that causes 
us to bear all trials and sorrows with calmness and fortitude. 
Was it not the love of God, my sister, that calmed your heart 
and mine when death claimed those we held most dear. 



268 Reminiscences and Letters 

Whither should we turn but to the great giver of all good ? 

Had not the everlasting arms sustained us in those trials, my 

dear sister, we should certainly have sunk under the weight of 

them. 

* * * * ■* * * 

No doubt that anguish of mind is infinitely harder to 
endure than physical suffering, for, " a wounded spirit who 
can bear." To feel that the heavens above us are brass, and 
that all beneath our feet is one sea of dark despair, oh ! this 
is hard indeed. But though " sorrow may endure for a night, 
yet joy cometh in the morning." And what a morning it is, 
after the clouds are parted and the Sun of Righteousness has 
risen, "with healing in His wings." Then, indeed, does He 
"bind up the broken-hearted, appoint liberty to the captive 
and bid the wounded spirit be free." Just across the hall 
my sister-in-law is playing on the piano, and the melody is 
very sweet ; but how much sweeter than earthly music is the 
music of redeeming love, when it flows into the heart, mak- 
ing sweet melody unto God. But how few are the moments 
when I am favored with this delightful music. How long are 
the days and nights when not a note is touched, not a sound 
of it is heard, when not a spiritual song can be sung by me. 
Cold and lifeless, apparently dead to all spiritual things, I 
almost give up in despair, and think, surely, the love of Jesus 
never had a place in my cold, sinful heart or I would not feel 
thus. Then it is that everything I ever wrote or said upon 
spiritual things, seems but a voice to condemn me, and I 
resolve to be silent ever afterward. But ah ! we are not our 
own keepers ; we cannot be governed by our own carnal wills, 
and it is well that we cannot. Please excuse pencil, as I am 
too nervous to use pen and ink. 



Letters 269 

August 29, 1885. 

A lady down town just sent me a lovely basket of fruit 
and flowers. How I love to gaze on their beauties and inhale 
their delicious sweetness. Is it not wonderful how many 
beautiful things God has provided for us, and wonderful, too, 
that He has given us the sense of sight, taste and smell, that 
we may fully enjoy the delights of His creation ? My heart 
swells with gratitude to the great giver, and to the kind friends, 
who, notwithstanding my unworthiness and utter uselessness, 
so generously remember me. 

* # tt * *■ * *■* 

When I wrote your brother, I very much desired to 
answer your precious letter, also, but felt one of my attacks 
coming on, and so. hastened its close. My fears were soon 
confirmed, as in a short time I took a chill, which lasted five 
hours, and from that time I was conscious of nothing for 
twenty-four hours. Physicians say that these attacks are all 
that prolongs my life, but oh ! how I dread them. My body 
so fills with water that if it did not pass into the limbs, and, 
by bursting the skin, free itself, I suppose death would inevi- 
tably ensue. I can remember nothing that occurs during the 
attack; am conscious of nothing save the awful pain and 
intense burning of my limbs. An indescribable solemnity fills 
my mind before and after the attack, that I cannot account 
for, unless it is that I am so near the silent, unseen river of 
death. It must be that when we enter the abode of the blest, 
where Jehovah dwells and reigns in all His majesty and power, 
that great solemnity will fill one's soul. How wonderful to 
think that just across that silent stream dwells Jesus, the dear 
Saviour; and about Him are the apostles and prophets, of 
whom we have so often heard. O, to be released from this 
body of suffering, sin and death and be clothed with immor- 
tality and light, to awake with the likeness of the dear 



270 Reminiscences and Letters 

Redeemer, and dwell with Him forevermore — how blessed it 
would be. How very weary of suffering and of life I have 
become, and how intense is my longing to be at rest. I so 
dread the coming winter and the frequent changes that attend 
that season. Yet I want to remember that it is a tender, lov- 
ing hand that leads me ; and I would patiently and quietly 
submit to all of His wise dispensations. My sister-in-law brought 
to my bedside, a few days ago, a drawer from my bureau, con- 
taining some clothing, in the bottom of which I found two old 
Signs. One of them contained a poem entitled, "Songs in the 
Night," written by your dear brother James, who is deceased, 
and the other contained his christian experience. The poem, 
to me, is exceedingly beautiful, full of love, of inward hope, 
and doubts and struggles. This verse expresses forcibly, the 
feelings of my own soul : 

" The silent, shadowy hours move onward slowly, 
But a sweet sense of joy abides with me ; 
One thought alone makes the night watches holy, 
The blessed thought that I am still with thee." 

I thought of your brother as one among the bright throng 
who, clothed in white robes, in spotless purity, tread the 
golden streets, and behold the King in all His wondrous 
beauty. Dear sister, sometimes I am filled with a restless 
longing to see you, and others, whom I love in the Lord ; but 
I quiet myself with the thought that we will meet in heaven, 
and love one another far better than we possibly can here. I 
have so often wondered how your niece is, and if she has 
regained her health. Please give her my love and sympathy. 
When the pleasant autumn days, with their invigorating 
breezes, give place to the grey, clouded sky, and the cutting 
winds, I may not be able to write ; but I shall think of you 
every day, and often during the sleepless nights. You will 
pray for me, will you not, and ask the gracious Father to 
sustain me ? Oh ! the pain, the anguish that I have, and the 



Letters 271 

awful hallucination that sometimes comes to me in the dark- 
ness of night. With Job I can say, " He scareth me with 
dreams;" and " wearisome nights are appointed unto me." 
But when I can also say with Job, "When he has tried me, 
I shall come forth as gold ; " and, " I know that my Redeemer 
liveth ; " when I can realize that the afflictions work for me 
an eternal weight of glory, then I am strengthened to bear it. 
Dear sister, I have been several days writing this imper- 
fect letter, and am grieved that it is so uninteresting ; but I 
cannot control or guide my thoughts much more than I can 
my destiny. I had a letter from sister Watie Beard, of Owego, 
N. Y., some months since. She did not request a reply, but 
I love her so that I may yet take the liberty to write her. 
Should I not, will you please give her my best love. 

■*-*##*#*# 
O, if I could fall sweetly asleep, to awake in the likeness 
of the Redeemer, how good it would be ! 



August 8, 1888. 

Last Saturday I was greatly pleased to find, among my 
mail, a picture of your own dear self. How can I thank you 
for showing me such kindness ? Nothing could have pleased 
me better, and I prize it more than a jewel of the rarest 
setting. * * * 

I would love to write you a long letter ; I would greatly, 
also, love to answer your brother's kind letter, but oh ! I can- 
not. Every day since I received his letter, when at all con- 
scious^ I have thought, to-morrow, or in a few days, I may feel 
better, then I will write such a letter as I may not be ashamed 
to own ; but oh ! my sister, almost all of my to-days and 
to-morrows have been alike — so filled with pain, weariness and 



272 Reminiscences and Letters 

extreme weakness, that it is simply impossible for me to write 
a readable letter of any length. * * * I do so wish you 
could sometimes sit beside my sick bed. How it would soothe 
and relieve my weariness, and the sense of loneliness that 
so often weighs me down. Not always do I rejoice in the dear 
Saviour's love ; and when all feeling sense of His presence is 
gone, my sick-room seems a prison indeed. No matter how 
numerous nor how pleasant my company, if the dear Saviour's 
presence seems gone I feel lonely and greatly depressed, and 
nothing gives me joy or comfort. I cannot pray at such times, 
my heart is so cold and hard ; and yet I know Jesus does not 
change, and it adds to my guilt and self-loathing to know that 
I doubt one who is always "pitiful and of tender mercy," 
and who is the same " yesterday, to-day and forever." There 
are times, too, when I have neither physical nor spiritual 
strength, that the thought of immortality and eternal life 
gives me no joy, and heaven itself seems so veiled in mystery 
and doubt that the thought of it gives me no comfort, no long- 
ing to be there. At such times I can no more realize that 
pain, sickness and death are not there, and that sin cannot 
enter, than I can, of myself, remove the dark clouds that 
cause such wretched thoughts. But oh ! sometimes these 
doubts are removed, the clouds and mists rolled away and I 
once more "mount up with wings as eagles," and "rejoice 
in hope of the glory of God." Then how quickly the scene 
is changed. Then the smallest gift from a friend comes to me 
as a choice blessing from my beloved Father's hand. My 
prison-like walls become the walls of a palace. There are 
many things I would love to say to you, but cannot now. My 
brain seems all in a whirl, and my feeble strength will not 
allow much exertion. When the weather becomes cooler I 
may become stronger ; then if the dear Lord enables me, I will 
write you. I cannot ask you to reply to this brief, imperfect 
letter, yet I would be deeply grateful if you would write to me. 



Letters 273 

May, 1889, 
From an adjoining room softest, sweetest strains of music 
are issuing from the piano, accompanied by my niece's well- 
trained soprano voice. There is something intoxicating to 
me about music. Its delicious sweetness vibrates through my 
whole being, exciting every nerve, quickening every pulse- 
beat, and inspiring to loftier, nobler thoughts and aspirations. 
Could one be held for a definite length of time under its soul- 
inspiring spell, would not the mind be capable of wonderful 
powers of thought, and would it not be glorious to write under 
its sweet influence, causing other souls to think our thoughts, 
to feel what we feel, and to reach out after the good and 
beautiful there is in this life, when it is so interlinked with the 
beauty and sweetness of the eternal life ? In through my open 
window, this bright morning, comes the exhilerating air, the 
soft, south wind coming as the tender whisper of some kindred 
soul from the spirit land, who has gone up " through much 
tribulation." I ask myself, is it the diseased body, so closely 
allied to the mind, that causes me so often to feel myself 
almost as much out of the body as in it ; that brings Jesus 
and those of heaven so near ? Or is it because I am so often 
brought so near apparently to "Jordan's stormy banks," with 
my trembling soul looking wistfully, longingly for the time 
when I shall be landed safely upon the glorious, immortal 
shore ? Yet how changeful are my moods, how frequent the 
fluctuations to which my tossed -about mind is subject. One 
day I may be with Moses upon the Mount, sweetly viewing 
the beauties of the promised land ; the very next, Giant 
Despair may hold me like a vice, and I be seemingly as far 
from the feet of my blessed Jesus as they who have never tasted 
His love, never felt his pardoning mercy. * * * Soon 
after I wrote to sister LerTerts I had a hemorrhage of the 
lungs, which so cut down my strength that almost any effort 
would cause me to relapse into unconsciousness, sometimes 



274 Reminiscences and Letters 

for hours. Besides suffering from the ulcers on my limbs, my 
bed-sores are very painful, and lifting my heavy body so much 
with my hands, they also become so sore I can scarcely use 
them at times. About a month ago two lady acquaintances 
came to my room, accompanied by an Indian medicine woman, 
whose Indian name, she claims, is " Princess Neaskaleta." 
She says the famous Dr. " O.," of Canada, who was the 
protege of the Prince of Wales, by whom he was educated, 
is her brother. My condition appeared to awaken all her 
woman's sympathy. Waking or asleep, she said I was con- 
stantly on her mind. She begged me to allow her to try her 
skill on me, herself becoming my nurse. 

To convince me it was my welfare she sought, she said 
she wanted no money. I took her remedies but a day and a 
half, when I became violently worse, and my sufferings so 
increased, that it seemed impossible for me to live. Every 
one about me was moved to tears. The medicine was too 
strong, both stimulant and sedative, and increased the 
action of the heart so its throbbing could be heard, and was 
painful past all description. I sincerely pitied the poor 
woman, who, though born a savage, seemed truly refined, and 
generously kind. Her disappointment was great, and when 
she bade me "good-bye" she said if she could have cured 
me, it would have made her very happy. Oh ! yes, my dear, 
dear sister, I know you would bathe my painful limbs ; and 
in so doing you would be fulfilling the dear Master's injunc- 
tion, " So ought ye to wash one another's feet.". 



It is one of my chief studies to be as little care as possible, 
for deeply do I deplore my inability to help myself. I keep 
all of my papers and books on my bed, my work-box on a 
stand, with writing material and almost every thing I require. 



Letters 275 

Is it not a wonderful evidence of God's marvelous care 
to know how he makes all my bed in my sickness? I have 
told you these facts that you may know how entirely I am 
alone in God's hands. Ah! my sister, I have passed through 
deep waters ; and could I explain all, no one would wonder 
at the weakness that caused my frequent allusions to my pecu- 
niary embarrassment in those private letters. It does seem I 
am most unfortunate in having about everything I write 
brought before the eye of the public. Oh ! sister Bessie, if 
only you were with me now, if only I could tell you the many 
things I would love to say. * * * You can never know 
how much I love you, although I never met you " face to face ;" 
can never know how often at night, alone in my room, I 
really seem to talk to, and be with you, and with what a 
warmth of affection my heart goes out to you. * * * Since 
I began this letter, Sunday has come; the family have ail 
gone to morning service, which only lasts a little while, so I 
am not alone in the house long. Oh ! the stillness pervading 
the entire house as I realize I am alone. Yet, not alone ; no, 
not alone, if Jesus, the lover of my soul, be near. And is He 
not near always, "our refuge and strength, a very present 
help in trouble? " What a comfort to know that at all times 
He is the same, that He changes not, no matter how far we 
may stray from the fold, how cold we become, nor how much 
we doubt our interest in His redeeming blood. This one 
blessed truth is such an anchor to my soul, when I have no 
heart to pray, feel no sense of His love, no desire to read His 
word ; and it shines like a gleam of light through midnight 
darkness. I am growing so weary, my pain so intense, I can 
write very little more. Since I received your two last dear 
favors (for which I am deeply grateful), there came a precious 
letter from sister Lefferts. Oh ! she must be a dear jewel of 
our Master's setting. Please say to her that though somewhat 
better, I know not how soon I may be brought low again. 



276 Reminiscences and Letters 

If I do not answer her soon I beg she will not think it is 
neglect. Kiss the dear little ones for me. Tell dear Edith 
I would certainly prize a bouquet from her tiny hand. How 
pleasant it must be to you to watch, as it were, the beauty of 
those precious, unfolding buds. O, how much need have 
those who have the oversight of little ones, of the guidance 
and strength and care of our God, in whom alone we can find 
wisdom to direct their tender footsteps. Commending you all 
to His loving care, hoping to hear from you soon, I am yours 
in christian love and fellowship. 



September 30, 1889. 

About the time I received your last letter, I had been 
moved into the room I occupy during the summer. Words 
fail me to express the agony it threw me into. I was delirious 
for over two weeks, and during that time could not realize 
where I was. I thought the passers-by on the street were all 
in confusion, and all going the wrong way. So painful was the 
delusion that racked my brain day and night, I would often 
cover my eyes to try to shut out the unfamiliar sights. * * * 
My body is immense, and the pressure on the lungs very dis- 
tressing. During the hot weather my digestion gave way so I 
could not taste so much as a strawberry without enduring the 
most excruciating pain. I lived entirely on bread and milk. 
I have not been able to lie down, as you do, for eight years. 
I dread the coming winter more than I can tell. All night 
long I must wring cloths out of cold water to cool my burn- 
ing limbs, while my body and arms are convulsed with chills. 
Often my skirts are saturated with the dropping water from 
the bursting limbs, and must be wrung frequently during the 
night. Sometimes my lower garments freeze, yet my limbs 



Letters 277 

burn, and when the ice-cold cloth is applied the steam will 
arise as from a heated stove. Oh ! if it would only please 
the blessed Lord to release me. Yet I do not want to com- 
plain lest a worse thing befall me, or lest I grieve one who is 
infinitely good and wise. Notwithstanding my painful con- 
dition, I have, in the midst of all sorts of trials, been made 
to very sweetly realize that the Lord is gracious, slow to anger 
and plenteous in mercy. Very often, when in the world I 
have had tribulation, the dear Saviour has seemed to draw so 
near that I could touch the hem of His garment. I could as 
clearly hear His sweet tones saying, " It is I, be not afraid," 
as could the apostles, when He bade the tempest cease and gave 
them peace. The blessed foretaste He has given me of the joy 
that is to come is better to me than health, better than wealth ; 
His dear love is better than any earthly affection. Since I 
began writing I have received one of the loveliest bouquets 
and a glass of jelly from Delaware, Ohio, and I have yet to 
learn by whose generous hand it was sent. How unworthy I 
feel to receive such blessings, yet how grateful to both the 
earthly and the heavenly friend. A lady, last night, gave me 
a beautiful water pitcher ; and as I think of these rare gifts, 
and the other blessings which " are new every morning," and 
which drop from the Lord's beneficent hand as distilling dew, 
I am both humbled and exalted, both made sorrowful and glad ; 
for oh ! I ought to be better, ought not ever to murmur. 
More often than you can imagine, my sister, do my heart and 
thoughts go out to you with tender yearning. 



June, 1890. 
My Own Precious Sister : 

The tiny clock in my pretty, cozy room just struck three. 
Three or four weary hours to drag their tedious moments 
by before nightfall. And what change shall the night bring ? 



278 Reminiscences and Letters 

Only an increase of pain, it may be partial delirium, and the 
weary waiting for the dawn of another day. What a life, you 
may say ; and truly, if this were all of life to me, it would be 
terrible indeed, and I, of all creatures, most miserable. But 
into the thick darkness and clouds of this life comes the 
blessed sunlight of God's wondrous love, shining all the 
brighter against the dark background, lighting up the darkness 
with its cheering rays, causing me to feel that though the 
cloud in which I am enveloped is dark indeed, its lining is of 
silver. O the blessedness of the love that is without begin- 
ning, and has no ending ! It encircles each helpless little 
child, who hungers for it ; for all such were chosen in Christ 
before the foundation of the world. Without merit, how 
sweetly may we rest in the everlasting arms. 

I have been greatly worse since I last wrote you, and I 
am very weak. Yesterday was "Decoration Day," and a 
most trying day to me. As I saw the vast procession, with 
their garlands and wreaths of flowers, move by, a great sea of 
human souls, I thought, Is Jesus leading them ? Then came 
His words, "Let the dead bury their dead;" and though I 
think it right to give due honor to departed loved ones, 
especially those who sacrificed their lives for their coun- 
try, yet I believe the followers of the meek and lowly Jesus 
are better off in their closets, or " where two or three are 
gathered together" in His dear name. * * * Turning down 
my lamp, I gave myself up to meditation and prayer, and to 
the enjoyment of the lovely moonlight night. Hour after hour 
passed, and it was near midnight before the family came in 
from the festive scene. Amid all my pain and loneliness I am 
sure I was happier than I could have been to join in their fes- 
tivities ; for I was permitted to rest in green pastures and 
"beside still waters," while the "still small voice" spoke 
cheering words to me. How near, how dear does the blessed 
Saviour become to one thus left alone. What a blessed hour 






Letters 279 

to approach the throne in prayer ; and how one comes from the 
sacred place soothed and girt about with everlasting strength. 
And to think that ' ' unto me, who am less than the least of all 
is this grace given. ' ' I feel so unworthy. But it seems that Paul, 
who had such marvelous visions, and who was taken to the 
seventh heaven, felt just as poor, just as vile and sinful, as 
the very smallest child. What a blessed comfort it all is to me. 

You will find enclosed a little slip taken from our weekly 
paper concerning your brother's visit and sermon. The 
assistant editor was among the audience. I think every one 
present has since called to tell me how much they enjoyed the 
sermon, and how glad they were for my sake. Sister Lottie 
was so kind, so willing to have preaching here, I feel to bless 
her for it, and to thank the dear Lord for it all. How sweetly 
was my hungry soul fed, and how often now do I go back and 
gather up the fragments and feel rested and refreshed thereby. 
Oh ! it was a precious season to me, one I shall always 
remember with tender thankfulness. 

My dear sister, two weeks ago I had one of my terrible 
chills, and last week another. Very probably before twenty- 
four hours I shall have another. The one that came on two 
weeks ago lasted all day and part of the night. The pain in 
my bad foot and limb seemed more than I could endure. Only 
through fervent, intense prayer did I find strength to endure. 
For several hours I vomited constantly, then brother came in 
from the farm and procured ice for me, which relieved me, 
and allayed the internal heat and intolerable thirst. Until 
after the chill leaves me I seem to know nothing of what goes 
on about me, and am only conscious of the severe suffering. 
My brother thinks the attack two weeks ago the most severe I 
ever had, and it was exceedingly prostrating. I do not feel 
that it will be possible for me to live through the heated 
season. It has been on my mind constantly, dear sister, to 
ask you, if I should be taken away first, if you would not take 



280 Reminiscences a?id Letters 

charge of my writings, the same as if they were your own. 

* * * I know my letters have very little merit, yet I sup- 
pose my peculiar affliction renders them of interest to 
many. I speak truth when I say I have had hundreds of 
letters from all over the United States and Canada, and even 
a few from England, telling me they were comforted by them. 

* * * Oh ! my sister, it is hard for me to read or write, as I 
can only finish a sentence or two, when all must be laid aside 
until I can lift my body in another position with my hands. 
How many long letters I have written you, in mind, the past 
few weeks. How my heart yearns for your advice, your love 
and your spiritual companionship. If only you could come 
in and sit beside me sometimes. Ever since your first letter 
appeared in the Signs you have been very dear to me. I had 
a precious letter from sister Alma recently. She is, indeed, 
a most lovely sister. I do wish you knew her better. * * * 

Dear Bessie, none can know of my heart-felt thankful- 
ness for benefits received, unless they were just where I am, 
just so powerless to help themselves, subject to needs that can- 
not be laid aside. Yet I would rather suffer for the common 
needs of life than to accept assistance from one where it did 
not come freely. * * * 

Sunday morning. All is stillness in my room again. My 
brother and family have gone to their place of worship. No 
doubt in many places the Lord's peculiar people are assem- 
bled in His earthly courts, and my heart goes out to them 
with longing to join in the delightful worship. To-day is the 
yearly meeting at Deer Creek Church. There are some 
precious jewels who will be present at their meeting to-day, 
and my heart yearns toward them in fervent love. O my 
sister, I feel very weak. It requires all the strength I can 
summon to arrange my bed, and the things about me, and 
dress my sores. You cannot know how sick and faint I grow 
sometimes while dressing the bad foot. * * * 



Letters 281 

July 23, 1890. 

A day or two after I mailed my last letter to you, I had 
a very hard chill, with all its attendant bad symptoms, and 
terrible sickness and pain. Two days elapsed, then came 
another ; the day after that, still another. * * * it 
nearly takes all the life out of me. It would be absurd to 
attempt a description of my suffering. During those hot 
days I was really more dead than alive. * * * Oh, what 
a blessing has been the pecuniary aid I have received through 
your dear brother. I cannot cease to thank the Lord and 
His beloved people. My brother's dear little family have 
been very kind to me. Eva, poor child, was greatly alarmed, 
and my own countenance was scarcely paler than the child's, 
while I was so ill. The doctor is trying to heal my right 
limb, but it seems not to yield in the least to his treatment. 
Elder T. Cole came to see me lately, on purpose to have his 
friend, Dr. Batdorf, of Grand Rapids, examine me. I will 
enclose a copy of his diagnosis, which seems very correct, and 
agrees with the diagnosis of other learned physicians. This 
doctor has a large Sanitarium at Grand Rapids. 

DIAGNOSIS OF MARY PARKER. 

She has a fungus growth in stomach, the result of some 
injury ; which is the seat of all her trouble. It has been long 
growing, is of a dark purple color and is covered with fester- 
ing sores. She lives, that is all. The bowels are paralyzed, and 
the growth in stomach greatly obstructs her food. She is 
intensely nervous. Cries a great deal. The heart is much 
affected. Blood thin and acrid. No good flesh to speak of. 

Might possibly be reached through surgery, or by absorb- 
ents — not by remedies the usual way. 

J. C. BATDORF, M. D. 

Grand Rapids, Mich. 



282 Reminiscences and Letters 

November 26, 1890. 

I want, oh ! so much, to write you a letter, but cannot. 
My bad attack came on the same evening after I mailed the 
letter to sister Clarice, and oh Bessie, dear, I did think I 
could not bear it ; it seemed harder and harder. Surely the 
end is not far off. Sister Clarice asked me why I could not 
have my room warm at night. It is because breathing is so 
difficult. I struggle so for my breath at night ; it often 
awakens my brother and wife up-stairs. They are very pati- 
ent and kind to me, and, besides, I have gotten used to do 
many things, that few invalids could do for themselves. I will 
try to write more satisfactory if I get better ; my head seems 
more involved now than usual. Yet I have numberless bless- 
ings for which to give thanks to the gracious Giver. Many 
thanks to sister Clarice for her interesting letter with kind 
solicitations and suggestions for my comfort. 



Jan. 8th, 1891. 

How appropriate was the beautiful poem you sent me to 
this particular season of the year, when we are so forcibly 
reminded of the rapidity of the revolving wheels of time, the 
going out of the old year, the coming in of the new. 

How blessed it is, as we contemplate future struggles, and 
coming events, and realize how powerless we are to take care 
of ourselves, that we have a stronghold in which to seek 
refuge, a mighty God who never slumbers, to watch over and 
take care of us. How great is my desire to love, honor and 
obey Him in all future time better than ever before, to seek 
knowledge and solace oftener in His word, and to be found 
walking more closely in His dear footsteps. 



Letters 283 

Sister Bessie, if only you could come to me this after- 
noon as I sit here, the only occupant of this little house, what 
a joy it would be. Oh ! you cannot know how deep, how 
tender and true is the regard I feel for you. * * * * Oh, 
this love that has its origin, as we trust, at the great Fountain 
Source ! How it softens the rough places over which we are 
made to pass. How it sweetens the bitter cup of sorrow and 
trial, causing water to spring up in the desert, and abundant 
food in the desolate land. If not deceived I have recently 
experienced much of the sweetness and power of this love of 
Jesus flowing into the heart, and going out to His dear chil- 
dren throughout the land ; and Oh ! it is so much better, 
more enjoyable, more like our blessed Saviour, to love than to 
hate, is it not, dear sister? 

I wrote sister Clarice one week ago to-day, also a letter 
to brother and sister Coulter. Feeling much fatigued I 
thought I would rest awhile, and write to you next day. But 
in an hour I was unconscious, and shaking with one of those 
chills of fifteen hours duration. My room was full of callers 
all the afternoon, and until after night, but I knew not who 
was present, or anything they said. These attacks being so 
frequent and severe, I only just begin to recover a little 
strength from one when another must be gone through with ; 
but the goodness of God is made manifest in a powerful manner, 
if I am not deceived, and His dear "presence disperses my 
gloom," and truly, at times, " makes all within me rejoice," 
I would like to tell you of the joy I experienced when, with 
my soul bowed down with woes too heavy for me to bear, I 
poured out my heart to Him in prayer, and His presence came 
like a shining light, brighter than the rays of the sun, softer 
and fairer than that of the moon, and I was made to rejoice 
with "joy unspeakable;" yes, unspeakable ; for I can neither 
describe the scene, nor tell of the power and sweetness of the 
felt presence of Jesus in my soul. * * * Notwithstanding 



284 Reminiscences and Letters 

my un worthiness, my heavenly Father showers countless 
blessings daily in my path. So many dear letters, sweet 
Christmas-tokens of love have come to my sick-room the 
past month. * * * * Oftentimes amid so much pain, 
I long for death, immortality, everlasting life, and rest, as I 
long for no earthly thing. Yet God knows just when to call 
me — how long to leave me here ; and I do know that "To 
live is Christ, to die is gain." Living or dying, to the child 
of God it matters little, since Jesus is ours, and we are His. 
Oh ! is it not a blessed thought? I had a lovely letter from 
our dear sister Hassell, and I felt it such a blessing to me. 
* * * * How grateful I feel to the dear ones in Phila- 
delphia, whose kindness knows no bounds. 



February 2, 1891. 

I have put off writing to you from day to day, hoping 
each day would bring a little less pain, and a little more 
strength. But, alas ! it seems useless to hope, or look for- 
ward to anything but suffering for me in this life. When I 
read dear brother Anderson's most touching letter to your 
brother, in the last Signs, I felt as if I should try never to 
complain again, so much heavier are his woes, so much more 
intense his great conflict of suffering than mine. But though 
the spirit is willing, the flesh is weak ; and, indeed, dear Bes- 
sie, the awful pain is greater than I can, of myself, bear. It 
is only through the help and strength that come to me from 
the Lord, that I am made to bear it at all. It is the anguish 
and terrible outcry of a soul sunk in the depth of human suf- 
fering, going out to a pitiful, merciful Father, an all-wise 
God of power, whose " eyes are over the righteous, and whose 



Letters 285 

ears are open unto their cry." He gives me resignation and 
strength to bear on, till the much-longed-for end, for oh ! 
blessed thought, I know that time will come when suffering 
and sorrow will end in everlasting life. * * * Elder 
Jenkins wrote me a dear, encouraging letter, inviting me to 
write for the Signs as often as I have strength ; and he also 
sent me a very generous present of money. Was he not kind ? 
Dear sister, will the published letters have to be copied ? You 
see I am wholly ignorant concerning such matters. O my 
sister, I feel that I ought not to allow you and your dear 
brother to undertake such a labor for one like me ; and I fear 
it will be an imposition not only on you, but on the dear 
kindred at large. I wish you did know how like nothing 
myself, and all that pertains to me, seem. 

* * * * * 



February 13, 1891. 

O, your precious letter ! Coming to me when I was so 
weak in body, so poor in spirit, bowed down in bitter anguish, 
sick with a sense of my imperfections and sin, every word was 
a soothing balm, every sentence a panacea for the wounds and 
bruises of my sin-sick, wearied soul. Can it be, I ask myself, 
that such sweet consolation is meant for me, that such words, 
coming from your heart, could be penned to comfort such a 
poor, little, insignificant creature as I? Surely you cannot 
know ; you cannot see into my poor heart, with all its deceit- 
fulness and sin, or words like those would never have been 
written, never have flowed from your soul into mine, so full 
of the sweet incense of God's purifying, unchanging love. 
Softly, quietly, do I seem to rest, with the halo of this heavenly 
incense about me, clasping it closely, lest it leave me. 

Every letter I receive from you seems but an added link 
in the golden chain of friendship and christian love which 



286 Reminiscences and Letters 

binds our hearts so closely. This love we both hope will never 
be broken, but will draw more sweetly its shining links about 
us on the eternal shore of our bright home above. Tender, 
loving memories cluster around the word home, even when it 
relates to our earthly habitation ; but what emotions stir and 
vibrate through the inmost recesses of the heart, when we 
think of the " home of the soul," which hath sure foundation, 
where there is no sickness, no sorrow, no death, no sin. What 
a contrast between the earthly and the heavenly home. * * * 
The same day I received your dear letter I got one, also, 
from Elder G. H. Tussing, now pastor of the dear home 
church where I was baptised, and where, for thirty-seven years, 
my dear, departed father preached the " unsearchable riches of 
Christ." The dear members there made up a little sum and 
sent me, through Elder Tussing, as a token of their sympathy 
and kindly remembrance. I cannot tell you how I prize the 
tender love that prompted these precious ones to thus remem- 
ber me, who was ever the poorest of their little band. To be 
thus thought of by the friends of my childhood, who, notwith- 
standing my unfitness, gave me a welcome among them, 
touched my inmost soul and filled it with gratitude to my 
blessed Saviour, whose love and watchcare can be traced in 
indelible way-marks through it all. The many choice bless- 
ings that flow from my heavenly Father's hands into the dark- 
ened pathway of my life, are wonderful indeed. Sister Bessie, 
I often long to see you that the sweet confidence existing 
between us might be perfect. But of late, this intercourse by 
letter, the interchange of thoughts and experiences seems so 
full, so sweet, that I scarce can realize that we do not see face 
to face. Surely there is a striking similarity in many of our 
ideas, our thoughts, our longings and experiences. 

In deepest love, your sister 

MARY. 



Letters 287 

March 29, 1891. 

I do not any more even doubt the existence of the 
living God, nor the efficacy of a Saviour's blood; and, best 
of all, I firmly believe that His eternal purpose in the redemp- 
tion of His people, and their resurrection from the grave, will 
be fulfilled. But / seem so cold, so blind, so faint, so far 
removed from His dear presence and love. I have so little 
warmth in prayer, little delight in the Word ; and if I did not 
feel the hungering and thirsting after righteousness, which 
brings to one's soul the blessed promise that it shall be filled, I 
certainly would give up all hope that when the Lord comes 
to make up His jewels I shall be among them. 

To-day there came to me such dear, consoling letters. 
One from our dear sister, Attie Curtis, every sentence of 
which seems to me like an outburst from a pure crystal foun- 
tain of love, which is filled to overflowing ; and oh ! what 
delicious music it sends forth — how like the soft, low sound of 
some gently-flowing brook, or the glad song of some happy bird, 
do her letters, full of praise, seem to me. The other letter 
was from our dear brother Coulter, and its delightful contents 
was as a soothing balm to my hungry, lonely soul. Oh ! my 
dear sister, when I compare myself with any of the dear 
brethren and sisters who write me, how I am filled with 
wonder, and the more wisdom I see they possess, the greater 
seems my lack, and the more incompetent I know I am 
of myself to write one word to the honor of God. I 
cannot send forth one note of praise to Him without the 
help of Jesus, for he says, "Without rne ye can do nothing." 
How very deeply have I been made to realize this blessed 
truth in the dark winter-time, with its chilling winds, that 
lately swept over my soul. It is said that trees become more 
firmly rooted in winter, when stripped of their green foliage. 
Can it be so with Christians, when they stand leafless, and 



288 Remi?iiscences and Letters 

fruitless, with chilling blasts beating upon them, and no 
beauty to be seen ? Do they become more firmly rooted and 
grounded in Him who is their righteousness ? I hope so, at 
least. Tell me, my dear one, if such dark night seasons often 
sweep over your soul. * * * I am alone to-night. Out- 
side the wind blows, and the rain-drops make music, as 
they fall from the eaves. Bat I like to be alone sometimes, 
alone with my blessed Jesus, even if my heart be cold, and no 
uplifting, heavenly thoughts stir my soul. Still I believe that 
round about me are the arms of everlasting love, and that I 
will be shielded from every evil. * * * My love to sister- 
Terry, through whose kindness I received such a helpful gift, 
and to the dear ones of your brother's charge. Good-night, 
my sister, may your slumbers be sweet, and may you and I 
meet on the shining shore, where the curtain of night never 
falls, where we can praise our dear Redeemer forever. 



May 17, 1891. 

About three weeks ago I noticed a small red lump just 
above the ankle of my bad foot, about as large as a three-cent 
piece. Now it is as large as a teacup, and has given me much 
trouble and pain. This, and various things, have occurred to 
prevent me writing to you sooner. 

*■ * * -x- * * * 

You spoke of sister Emma Smith. I think she is the 
sweetest, dearest creature I almost ever saw. I had a letter 
from her Saturday. She is going to make a tour of the West- 
ern States. She is a constant, hard-working teacher, and I 
fear her health is giving way. She says she can hardly wait 
for the coming book. Several others have said the same. I 
fear they anticipate too much, and will be sadly disappointed. 



Letters 289 

O sister Bessie, I have so yearned to see you. Especially at 
night do my thoughts go out to you with unutterable warmth. 
Your letters are soothing to me, and I find myself turning to 
you often, and I feel it would be a great relief if I could have 
a long talk with you. My brother in Logan has lately sent 
me a package of various kinds of fruit. I was so glad. His 
oldest son is a rising physician in Columbus. The dear boy 
runs down to see me sometimes. He seems so noble and 
good ', is only twenty-two. How is your dear niece, Anita, 
and her baby ? I imagine how Edith and Mildred enjoyed 
having the darling baby cousin visit them. 



Some weeks ago, just after the 1 1 A. M. train came in, a 
gentleman rang the door bell, and asked to see me* He intro- 
duced himself as John Nixon, of Logan. I knew his people, 
but had never met him. He began at once to relate a most 
wonderful experience to me. He said he had been a saloon- 
keeper a number of years, and a worse place of the kind, he 
said, could not be found in the valley. Connected with the 
sale of intoxicating drinks was also gambling. He said there 
was no crime from which his hands were clean, save murder, 
and that was in his evil heart. One day, as he sat in his 
saloon, it seemed some one said to him, " This is the road to 
everlasting punishment." Looking about him, and seeing no 
one, a terrible fear seized him. He was like one in a dream. 
The next thing of which he became conscious was finding 
himself in a little, old school-house on a back street, in which 
colored people were holding a protracted meeting. He stood 
up and told them of the voice he heard, and asked them what 
to do. They got him to the mourner's bench, and all prayed 
for him, but with no relief; and for three days he went there, 
but continued to feel worse. Next he went to the Presbyter- 
ians, and they told him to pray and exercise faith, still he 



290 Reminiscences and Letters 

found no relief. From the first he closed his saloon and never 
again opened it. He now began to wander over the hills, 
and stay in the dark ravines, praying and calling upon God for 
help. Finally he went to the dear little meeting-house where 
father used to preach, and heard the first gospel sermon of 
his life. For the first time began to learn that others had felt 
just what he was then feeling. After a time he found peace, 
and now he is rejoicing in hope, and grace seems beaming 
through his soul, lighting up each lineament of his face, 
which, strange to say, bears no marks of dissipation. Oh ! 
it was just sublime. If I only had strength to go on telling 
you. He read my little book while in trouble, and said it 
helped to strengthen his belief in God ; and he came all 
the way up here, especially to see me. He seems so inno- 
cent and good, one would never suppose he had been a 
bad man. 

He said he had an engagement to go with a party 
to Columbus, on a gambling and drinking carousal at 
the time when he became convicted ; and he says no one 
knows how his old associates tried to draw T him into their 
vile net again. His story reminded me of the poor maniac 
among the tombs. He is now a member of Scott's Creek 
Church. Is it not marvelous, the way the Lord leads about 
His children, and instructs them? 

It is night-time with me to-day. Last week I was upon 
the mountain top, having such glorious views of the fair land 
beyond, while I enjoyed the flow of milk and honey. But now 
I am sojourning again in Egypt, with no pleasant fruits, or fair 
scenes to cheer my soul. 

I feel condemned to send you a mere worldly common- 
place letter, but one can draw no water from empty vessels, 
neither can we, of ourselves, open the prison doors. If it were 
not that my soul hungers for the bread of life, I should be cast 
down indeed. 



Letters 291 

June 23, 1891. 

For the past six weeks I have lost so much sleep on 
account of extreme nervousness and pain, that every time I 
attempt to write I am almost constantly falling off to sleep, 
and I make all sorts of ill-looking marks. I am not suffering 
at present as I did some weeks ago, for my left limb has burst 
in two places, and the water is almost pouring out, which is 
giving me needed relief. How I do feel to praise and bless 
my dear heavenly Father for such a respite from distress and 
pain, for I know it is all of His tender mercy and care, and the 
answering of the fervent cry of my soul to Him for help. He 
is indeed very pitiful, and of tender mercy, and has been so 
near, so dear and so gracious to me in my loneliness and pain, 
I feel if I had ten thousand tongues, I could never sufficiently 
sing His praise. About the time of my last writing to you an 
ulcer had appeared on my left limb. It has baffled all skill of 
the physicians, and is constantly spreading, and is now as large 
as a saucer. * * * The pretty wrappers sent me by 
sister Abbie Clark, of Maine, are indispensable, and I now 
look upon her work as another provision of Him who has prom- 
ised, and does provide. * * * 

A great change is certainly taking place in my physical 
condition. What the result will be, time alone can tell. I 
was so ill during the association at your place and at Warwick ; 
yet I was with you all in spirit, and had some very precious 
and sweet manifestations of the omnipresence of God, the 
workings of His Holy Spirit, and the love and unity between 
Himself and His people; also, the sweet fellowship of the 
saints. I truly felt once, during prayer, on the last day of the 
Warwick Association, that, in spirit, I was permitted to join 
that dear assembly ; and I had a blessed feast and foretaste of 
heavenly joys. But I cannot tell you of it, dear Bessie ; you 
know I cannot, with this mortal tongue or pen, because it is 



292 Reminiscences and Letters 

"unspeakable and full of glory." Even now, while gathering 
up a few fragments, as I write, the glory, joy and sweetness I 
cannot tell, flows into my poor soul. O, the wonders we see 
in this pathway that leads to the portals of eternal day ! 
Even the faint glimpses we have "through a glass darkly," 
causes us to wonder and adore. More and more do we see of 
the wisdom and goodness of God, as we journey onward and 
upward; and nearer and nearer are we brought to where Moses 
stood upon the mount, permitted to look into the land of 
Canaan. Darkness and doubt encircle us for a time, but anon 
the clouds part, and we find that the Sun of Righteousness 
shines with greater radiance, when the clouds are sundered. 
I have not been able to read the blessed word since I am so 
weak and exhausted for sleep, and it has grieved me ; and while 
so low I did not enjoy anything, did not seem to have one 
uplifting thought. The beauty of the green earth, the bloom 
and fragrance of flowers, the song of the happy birds failed 
to inspire me with any love or zeal toward my blessed Lord ; 
and my soul was troubled. 

Then came the words, " He loveth at all times ; " " He 
sticketh closer than a brother." Tears of gladness at once 
filled my eyes, and my soul was made once more to rejoice in 
God, my Saviour. Then the words of David were brought to 
my mind, " He knoweth our frame, He remembereth that we 
are dust ; " also, "He is not an High Priest who cannot be 
touched with a feeling of our infirmities." Then was my soul 
made glad, indeed, and I felt that, no matter what my feelings, 
no matter how cold, lifeless and barren I felt, Jesus, dear Jesus, 
is the same, now and forevermore. * * * I had such a 
beautiful present last Friday from that dear young sister, 
Larue Beebe. It is a large, morocco-bound gilt hymn-book. 
I prize it greatly, and am so thankful. Sister Kate Beebe 
also sent me some photographs, and among them were dear 
sister Rousavell and brother, and sister Jenkins. How very 



Letters 293 

thoughtful it was. I have had a few brief but very precious 
letters from Elder Jenkins. He seems very near to me. 
How good the Lord is to give me so many dear, kind friends 
among those I have never met. Sister Benedict, of Indiana, 
is wonderfully kind to me. I hope I am thankful. 

I am suffering, but no earthly physician can help me ; 
but you know there is a "Balm in Gilead," and the Holy 
Physician will apply it in his own way and time. Am very 
lonely now, for I cannot bear any one in my room. 



June 30, Tuesday morning. 

Just how cheering and soothing to my lonely heart was 
your dear letter how much fragrance seemed to flow into 
my soul as again and again I perused its pages, I have no 
language or power to express. You have felt these things, 
dear sister, and know by experience that their sweetness can- 
not be told. I can write but a brief line this time, as I am 
very weak, but much more free from excruciating pain than I 
have been for a long time, and I feel to praise and bless the 
great Physician, whose balm has seemed so marvelously 
applied to my poor, suffering body, as well as, I trust it has, 
to my soul. * * * The swelling is so reduced that I feel 
almost like a new person, and oh how my soul does praise 
and thank God for it. I know I may suddenly be plunged 
into greater suffering than ever, but I can only pray and 
praise, trust and bless His great and holy name, knowing that 
" To live is Christ, to die is gain. ' ' I know, also, that hitherto 
He has given me strength according to my day, and I can 
trust Him to the end. Oh ! my sister, holier, more wonderful 
seems our God to me every day ; and it is blessed, even in this 



294 Reminiscences and Letters 

tabernacle of sins, to live, when " our life is hid with Christ in 
God," and when, in Him, we live and move and have our 
being, ' ' and when into our poor lives there flows even a little of 
that blessed fullness " that filleth all in all." Little by little are 
these blessed things unfolded to my darkened mind ; clearer 
and clearer do they seem; though I know that until the veil' 
be lifted their dazzling beauty cannot be known. But then 
how glorious it will certainly be. Do you know, dear sister, 
that sometimes I feel so closely, so warmly drawn toward you 
and sister Clarice, and others, when soul speaks to soul, as we 
seem to do sometimes in this interchange of thought, that 
I feel, though we never meet, it must be that we will meet in 
the great beyond, and in some way recognize each other as 
kindred spirits ; not as we should here, but in some way that 
we cannot know now, but will, when all things are made 
manifest ; when all mystery is cleared away, and we, with 
spotless robes, have entered fully into the final rest, that 
remains to us, and into the glory of the Most High. 

******** 

Very much I wish to say but cannot. My brother and 
wife in Logan are to come here the Fourth and return the 
same day. It is fourteen years since I met them. Sister Alma 
McNaughten is also expected. 



Sunday morning, July 27, 1891. 

All last week I was brought so low, where it seemed I 
lay at the very edge of the silent, solemn river of death. 
Heavy clouds of darkness and doubts as to my interest in 
the dear Saviour's blood also encompassed my soul, while all 
the waves and billows seemed to go over me. So very sick, 



Letters 295 

nigh unto death, with no feeling sense of the invisible pre- 
sence of Him who has been more to me than wealth, health 
or friends, my anguish was too great for utterance. Over and 
over again would come the words of Job, " Though He slay 
me, yet I will trust in Him," and again, "He maketh the 
clouds His chariot," so that my soul was sustained, and my 
strength upheld, notwithstanding the turbulent waves that 
beat about me. Though sinking in deep waters, I could say, 
" Lead' me to the Rock that is higher than I." How in my 
loneliness and pain I turned to you and sister Clarice, and I 
felt how short, how puny is an arm of flesh, even though 
it be the arms of those so dear ; for though you would both 
come to me if you could, would minister to my needs were 
you present, alas ! many miles lie between us. I do hope I 
can still trust in Him, who is a very " present help in trouble." 
Since sister Alma was here I have felt more than ever alone. 

Dear Bessie, I am too ill to write. I do so long for some 
word from some of you, which would certainly give me 
strength. Pray for me, do ; and do not forget to write very 
soon. You will excuse this note, dear one, written when I 
scarce know what I do. Oh ! that the end would soon come. 
But God's holy will be done. 

Lovingly, 

MARY. 



296 Reminiscences and Letters 

CONCLUSION 

"Who hath despised the day of small things?" was 
asked of the Prophet Zechariah. In keeping with this the 
Apostle Paul says : " God hath chosen the weak things of 
the world to confound the things that are mighty, and things 
which are despised, hath God chosen, yea, and things which 
are not, to bring to naught things that are ; that no flesh 
should glory in His presence." We find also recorded for 
the suffering children of earth, "The Lord loveth whom He 
chasteneth, and scourgeth every one whom He receiveth." 

We often wonder why the blessed Saviour lays so heavy 
a hand on some of the dear members of His body, why He 
keeps them so long in the furnace. Then comes the answer, 
" I will try them as gold is tried, I will refine them as silver 
is refined," with the promise, " I will never leave nor forsake 
them;" "In a little wrath I hid my face from thee for a 
moment ; but with everlasting kindness will I have mercy on 
thee, saith the Lord, thy Redeemer." 

This little book is sent forth, trusting that the testimony 
it bears to the loving care and faithfulness of Him who is " a 
Father to the fatherless," may be encouraging to many who 
are walking in the vale of sorrow and temptation. Had our 
beloved sister relied entirely on her own judgment, these 
pages would never have seen the light. It was with misgivings 
and hesitation that she ever yielded to the request of many 
friends and kindred in. Christ, to allow her letters to appear 
in print, feeling most deeply her imperfections, and that what 
she has written is very defective, often using her pen to beguile 
weary, painful, lonely hours. With this consideration, we 
feel an assurance that every inaccuracy will be looked upon 
with an indulgent eye. 

It is simply marvelous that she can write at all, that she 
has any control of her thoughts and pen, so extreme is her 



Letters 297 

suffering ; yet it is a comfort and sweet satisfaction that in 
whatever flows from her pen there is the shining and sparkling 
of truth, as clear water from a pure fountain. 

The distresses and deliverances through which she has 
passed have prepared her all the more to " weep with them 
that weep, and rejoice with them that do rejoice." In 
perusing these gleanings from our sister's pen, I have been 
deeply moved ; these sentiments breathed in her sick-room 
have awakened tender emotions, and the abiding trust and 
living faith that have enabled her to endure with fortitude, 
have often been strengthening to me, and to many far and 
near, who have read her published letters, as well as personal 
ones. These letters have searched out others who are afflicted, 
and, from beds of languishing, they have sent her loving 
responses, feeling that she was a " companion in tribulation." 
We hope still others may be cheered, comforted and refreshed 
as they read her words, even when tears of sympathy fill the 
heart. 

The fruit of her pen has, at times, been to me like an 
inspiration, filling my heart with praise. I will mention one 
occasion : It was after a day spent in the assembly of the 
saints, though, in spirit, I was outside While the followers of 
Jesus were sitting together in heavenly places, listening to the 
"joyful sound," as it dropped like the rain, and distilled as 
the dew, I longed to enter in and enjoy the feast ; yet my 
cold, hard heart appeared to shut me out, feeling most deeply 
my entire unfitness, while partaking with them of the sacred 
supper. 

That evening, filled with gloom and surrounded by dark- 
ness, I took up sister Mary's book of letters, gathered into a 
volume by sister McNaughten. Soon was my heart melted at 
the rich manifestations of a Saviour's love to this stricken one, 
hidden in the cleft of the rock, and "in the secret places of 
the stairs." As I read on in the still hours of night, her 



298 Reminiscences and Letters 

sweetly-expressed thoughts touched the secret springs of my 
soul, as never before, and I cannot express the love and sweet 
fellowship I felt for her, whose face I had never seen. 

The gently-falling rain was pleasant music — was as the 
"voice of many waters," and my soul was lifted in silent 
songs of adoration to Him who "turns the rock into stand- 
ing water, and the flint into a fountain of waters." How 
unsearchable is the wisdom of our God, who planted the stars 
and covered the earth with beauty, and who has power 

" To clear the darkest skies, 

And gives us day for night, 
Make drops of sacred sorrow rise 
To rivers of delight." 

It is in " passing under the rod " that our sister is enabled to 
speak words of consolation to others who are receiving its 
afflictive strokes. 

For many years has she been unable to rise from her 
couch, or even to lie down in bed. Often crushed with 
aching sorrow and again, joyful through hope, and exalted in 
praise — thus have these thoughts dropped from her pen. Her 
life, so blighted in earthly hopes, has found a compensation 
in the ripening of her faith, which, at times has been as a 
shining light that reacheth unto perfect day. 

She was early separated from the home where she learned 
to lisp the sweetest of all earthly names, "mother," and 
where she first knew a Saviour's love and felt her sins forgiven. 
Then do we find her mourning " the broken ties of happier 
days." Ever alive to all that is beautiful around her, from 
the grandest scene to the blade of grass springing at her feet ; 
early associations became very dear to her sensitive, clinging 
nature. Even the hills and trees and sunsets, which she had 
watched with fascination, and the rooms where last words 
were spoken, all beckoning and calling with yearning near- 
ness, till her heart is breaking, and, like Mary of old, " she 



Letters 299 

goes to the grave to weep there." But all her tears are 
bottled by Him, who brings joy through the channel of suffer- 
ing. If she had not been tried, she would not have come 
forth as gold; if she had not been fearful and "tempest- 
tossed," she would not have beheld Jesus walking on the 
waves, allaying all her fears ; if she had not felt herself sink- 
ing in the stormy deep, she would never have realized the 
strong hand of her Saviour lifting her above the heaving bil- 
lows; and, if her sky had not been overspread with dark, 
dismal clouds, the beautiful rainbow of promise would never 
have appeared to her rejoicing eyes, or the star of Bethlehem 
beamed its heavenly radiance upon her. 

Though disease has long held her body with a strong 
hand, the silken cords of divine love have held her soul still 
firmer, and soothing, indeed, are those bands. Time after 
time, since chained by affliction, has she almost touched the 
eternal shores, and how bitter was her disappointment when 
she found herself returning to pain and sorrow. After a 
glimpse of heaven, where the glory of the Lord is the light 
thereof, how poor is earth with its changing, fading scenes. 

Deprived for years of meeting at any place of worship, 
her soul has often sung in plaintive tones, 

" How pleasant, how divinely fair, 

O Lord of Hosts thy dwellings are ! 
With long desire my spirit faints 

To meet the assemblies of the saints." 

Our beloved and suffering sister, while longing for the 
message, " Child, your Father calls, come home," yet is still 
submissive to His holy will, feeling an assurance that "all 
things " are working for her good, and that " at evening-time 
it shall be light." Jesus is her theme, and the dew to her 
soul \ and she has so beheld His glory that she can truly say, . 
" Thou art fairer than the children of men ; grace is poured 
into thy lips." " All thy garments smell of myrrh and aloes 



300 Reminisceiices and Letters 

and cassia." " His countenance is as Lebanon, excellent as 
the cedars." Yea, " He is the chiefest among ten thousand, 
the one altogether lovely." 

May the savor and fragrance of His precious name be as 
"ointment poured forth" to all who are pinioned to a bed 
of pain. And may the Holy Spirit seal a blessing home to 
every heart who seeks His face sorrowing, and who is looking 
for the " footsteps of the flock," as for " hidden treasure," 
and for all who love the appearing of Jesus. " Not by might, 
nor by power, but by my spirit, saith the Lord of Hosts." 

BESSIE DURAND. 
Southampton, Pa., Aug. 24, 1891. 



Letters 301 

APPENDIX 

New Holland, O. 

To the Honorable Committee of Arrangements for the 
Holcombe Reunion, to be held at Mount Airy, New Jersey, 
on Wednesday, August 12, 1891, this brief article is addressed: 

As it is not at all probable that any of the Holcombe rela- 
tives who reside in Ohio will be present at this pleasant assem- 
bly of our people, I trust I will not be intruding, or be 
deemed presumptuous if I, a descendant of the Holcombe 
family, send you a line in behalf of the Ohio relatives, byway 
of remembrance and kindly greeting. My mother, who has 
long since fallen asleep, was born inLambertville, New Jersey. 
Her maiden name was Hannah Holcombe. She was the 
daughter of Dr. John and Rachel Holcombe (the latter's 
maiden name being Rachel Burroughs). Dr. Holcombe 
moved to Morgan County, Ohio, when my mother was twelve 
years of age. There were four sons and four daughters all 
of whom married and raised families. But all are now dead 
except the youngest brother, Mr. John Holcombe, who 
resides on a beautiful farm in Perry County, Ohio, and two 
daughters, one living in Kansas, the other in Perry County, 
O., in the town of Corning. There is an enormous progeny 
of the descendants of Dr. John Holcombe, many of whom are 
well-to-do respectable members of society in various localities 
of Ohio. 

I think by striving to give you a pen-acquaintance with 
your cousins of the "Buckeye " State, I can truthfully say I 
need tell you nothing that would make you ashamed to own 
us, or to cause you to shrink from extending to us the wel- 
coming hand-clasp of relationship, or to deny the close and 
binding tie of consanguinity. 



3 o 2 Reminiscences and L e tiers 

I am myself a hapless, helpless invalid, shut in from day 
to day, from year to year, unable to go about and enjoy the 
beauties of this fair, beautiful earth. But it has pleased God, 
amid all the weariness and pain, to give me a sweet resigna- 
tion to His holy will, and to enable me to look beyond 
this world, to one where sickness and pain can never come, 
and where He who heals all our sicknesses has a healing, 
holy balm for even the malady of sin, and who Himself 
will wipe all tears from our eyes. Were it not for this 
affliction I would dearly love to be one among you in your 
pleasant gathering ; and, believe me, I will be with you in the 
spirit of vivid thought and remembrance. Your place of 
meeting being near the birth-place of my dear, good, noble 
mother, is to me a sacred spot, around which my fond affec- 
tions cluster ; and nothing of an earthly nature could give me 
greater pleasure than to stand on the ground that once bore 
the impress of her dear feet, and to look upon the scenes that 
she so loved in childhood, and of which she often told me 
when I, a little child, sat upon her knee. 

Oh ! who that have ever had bestowed upon them the 
fond, unselfish love of a good mother can help feeling an 
interest and love for the scenes and place of her birth? and 
who that have felt that love can help having their affections 
go out to the person or persons through whose veins runs the 
same family blood? I am not ashamed of my mother, my 
mother's people, nor the good old English blood from which 
we are descended ; and next to the stars and stripes, next to 
America, free and true, I love dear old England, and those 
who are born and bred upon her soil. 

Since it is impossible for any of the Holcombe relatives 
of Ohio to be present at your grand reunion, may not one of 
our number hope to be welcomed within your hearts and your 
precincts through the medium of the pen ? and when you 
gather round the festive board, and invoke the blessing of 



Letters $ 

God upon your united hands and hearts, will not some one at 
least remember your suffering, " shut-in " relative in Ohio r 
and ask for a blessing for her ? In behalf of the Holcombe 
relatives in this locality I tender you all sincere love, and our 
very kindest, best of wishes. I am glad that this pleasant 
family reunion is kept up, and our excellent cousin, Dr. Geo. 
Holcombe Larisan, of Lambertville, has excited our warmest 
admiration, on account of the deep interest, and the very 
active part, he has taken in bringing this family reunion about, 
and keeping up the pleasant family relationship and inter- 
course. Craving a place in the kindly remembrance of you 
all, and commending you to the care and keeping of the 
all-wise God, I am, sincerely and affectionately, 

Your cousin, of Ohio, 

MARY PARKER. 



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